An Ounce of Truth for Every Treason
by Neoyorquina
Summary: When Olivia turned her back on Fitz and walked away from the promise of a "happily ever after" with the man that she loves, she made a wrong decision for all the right reasons. Six months have passed and Olivia finds herself in an impossible and extremely dangerous situation. The tables are turned and Fitz will become the fixer and Olivia the person in need of rescuing.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:  
**

Hello all,

I'm **obsessed** with SCANDAL and the fan fiction on this site and elsewhere has inspired me to create my own. I enjoy telling stories but this is the first time I've written fan fic and posted my writing in a public forum like this.

The Season 1 finale made it seem like Olivia was leaving the White House (and Fitz) behind for good. But we know that Shonda Rhimes isn't going to leave us hanging like that in Season 2. I've been thinking a lot about what it will take for Olivia and Fitz to come back together and I think something major is going to happen where the tables get turned. Olivia is going to find herself in a predicament where the only person who can fix the situation will be Fitz. (Obviously, it goes without saying that I don't own these characters and that I have the greatest respect and admiration for their creator and original author, Shonda Rhimes.)

With this story I'm going to write, I already know what the ending is going to be. I'm just not exactly sure yet how I'm going to get there. LOL. I anticipate that this story will take multiple chapters to tell, so I hope you will be patient and interested enough to follow it all the way to the end.

Thanks in advance for reading and please leave reviews and feedback.

Enjoy!

Neo (aka Neoyorquina)

**An Ounce of Truth for Every Treason**

**PROLOGUE**

The package had arrived. Inside was a plain manila folder. He opened it and found only a single photograph with a note attached. The photo was of a very attractive black female exiting a Georgetown townhouse in Washington, D.C. She was dressed smartly in a white Tory Burch trench coat and Christian Louboutin high heels and was obviously unaware that she was being photographed since she was deeply engrossed in conversation on her cell phone.

The man looked closely at the picture. He didn't recognize the woman and wondered if she was someone famous. She didn't look famous. Perhaps she was a lobbyist? Yes, that must be it. But why would his contact have sent him this photo? When he had asked his contact to find something, anything, on President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant that could be used to bring the most powerful man on the planet to his knees, the man holding the photograph didn't know what would turn up. And now here it was, a snapshot of a very attractive black female.

The man sighed. This wasn't enough. Perhaps finding the President's fatal flaw was going to be harder than he originally thought.

He picked up the photo to put it back in the folder when he noticed the note, a piece of blue paper folded in half. Inside there was only a single sentence. He opened it and read: _"She's the one."_


	2. Reality Bites

**_Author's note: _**_Hey gang, here's the first chapter. Thanks for the initial comments and words of encouragement. Enjoy! - Neo_**  
**

**Chapter 1: Reality Bites**

A hard elbow jabbed into Fitz's chest as he drove to the basket, knocking him off course. He released the ball and it sailed over his opponent's head into the basket. _Swoosh_.

"Bam! Another 2 points! Cam, when will you ever learn?" Fitz asked, laughing.

Cam was the nickname of Cameron Reynolds, Director of the CIA. On Friday mornings, he and the POTUS got together for a weekly pick-up basketball game in the White House gym.

"Well, Mr. President, you do have a home court advantage," the CIA director replied good-naturedly.

The two men laughed. Fitz walked over to the bench to grab a towel as Cam remained on the court and started to shoot baskets from the free throw line. He got into a rhythm and almost every ball that leapt off his fingertips was going right through the basket.

"Hey, you're pretty good….when you're standing still!" Fitz said, from the sidelines,

"Ha, ha, very funny, Mr. President. We need to take this game to a public hard court and then we'll see how solid your game is!"

Fitz, who was drinking a bottle of water, burst out laughing and water spurted out of his nose. "OK, OK, you win. You know an old guy like me wouldn't last five minutes on a public court, even with Secret Service Protection!"

"You're being too modest, Mr. President." Cam said, turning to look at Fitz. "The truth is you've really upped your game in the past few months. Your physical conditioning has gotten much better and you could definitely give some of these young bucks a run for their money on the court. Do you have LeBron James or Kobe Bryant training you these days? "

Inwardly, Fitz smiled. He was pleased to hear that. Six months had passed since that whole Amanda Tanner fiasco and the Mellie/Olivia ambush. He had been so disgusted with the way everything turned out, he needed a positive distraction. So he had decided to devote more energy to improving his physical health and well being. The White House chef had been given instructions to develop a kind of Spartacus-type diet for Fitz that would keep him lean but help him pack on more muscle. Fitz had also added more strength training to his fitness routine and made sure that no matter what was going on in the world he would exercise at least three times a week. After six months, Fitz's dedication was really paying off and everyone was noticing.

"Mr. President, keep it up, whatever it is you're doing, and they're going to want to put you on the cover of Men's Fitness," Cam said, laughing.

* * *

Stephen slammed down the accounting ledger on the oak desk.

"Olivia, this is serious! We're not going to make payroll again this month."

"Stephen, yes, I know. Stop worrying. I've got it covered."

¨Covered? You mean you're going to withdraw another 30K from your retirement account? Olivia, this is madness! You can't keep doing this!"

"Stephen, lower your voice! I don't want the others to hear what we're discussing," Olivia said, glancing through the pane of glass that separated her office from the main conference room area where everyone normally assembled.

Stephen was angry but for a moment his face softened.

"Liv, look, I know you've got a heart the size of Texas, but you can't go on funding this firm out of your savings. We need to land some new clients. Paying clients. Enough with the _pro bono_ work."

"Stephen, I know. It's just been a fluke that we've been doing so much _pro bono_ work lately," Olivia said.

"A fluke? Are you serious? Olivia, it's been over six months since our last paying client and then that whole Quinn fiasco ate up a serious chunk of our time."

Olivia groaned. "Stephen, don't remind me. What on earth was I thinking when I brought Quinn on board. Turns out she was a runaway bride who had jilted a series of boyfriends at the altar. Her last fiance wanted to track her down and get her back. When he called me and suggested this elaborate ruse to get Quinn back to him, I should've just said no. Please, the next time you see me making a mistake like that, just shoot me."

Stephen chuckled. "You mean just shoot Huck, right? He should've done a more thorough background check on Quinn before you got involved."

"God, let's not talk about it. I'm just glad that whole sordid mess with Amanda Tanner, the President and his wife, Billy, Gideon and Quinn is finally behind us," Olivia said, shuffling papers on her desk.

"Well, Olivia, we do need to talk about what we're going to do to keep this firm afloat. Our financial situation is dire. We need to generate some cash flow. Now."

Olivia sighed. She knew Stephen was right. But what could she do? The fixer business was by referral and word-of-mouth. Also, her clients appreciated her firm's discretion and low key public profile. It wasn't as though she could advertise on a billboard or have Harrison hand out flyers on a street corner or something.

Olivia was still thinking when Stephen added, "If we don't find a new source of income within the next 30 days, we're going to have to let Huck, Abby and Harrison go."

Olivia snapped to attention. "I will never let that happen! If Huck, Abby and Harrison want to leave Pope & Associates for greener pastures, I won't hold them back. But I would never ever fire them. Never!"

"Olivia, look, this is a business, not a charity…"

She cut Stephen off. "This conversation is over. I think I made myself clear."

"Liv, I'm your business partner. We need to talk about this," Stephen said, becoming angry once again.

"I said I've got this situation handled. Now, please, get back to work!"

Olivia turned her back to Stephen. She was getting noticeably agitated but didn't want Stephen to see how his comment that she may have to dissolve the firm had unnerved her.

Stephen turned and left. Olivia heard the door click shut. She exhaled deeply and quickly scanned her office. Her eyes were automatically drawn to a photo on the credenza behind her desk. It was a picture of her and Fitz on the campaign trail. In it, Olivia was wearing a black, sleeveless Rachel Roy dress and Fitz was looking dapper in a navy blue pinstripe suit with a crisp white shirt, no tie, open collar. God, he looked handsome, Olivia thought.

A wistful smile slowly dawned on her face as she thought back to that moment. They were at the Grant family ranch in Santa Barbara and she was prepping Fitz for an interview with 60 Minutes. At the moment that the photo was snapped, she and Fitz were walking the grounds of the ranch and talking U.S. foreign policy. Olivia was peppering him with possible questions that she thought might come up during the interview with Anderson Cooper. In the photo, Olivia looked serious, focused and professional while Fitz looked relaxed, confident and…in love. The look in his eyes was one of admiration, attraction and affection for the woman walking beside him.

Olivia took a deep breath. She remembered how initially uncomfortable the photo made her feel when Cyrus presented it to her in a frame. Wouldn't everyone know that she and Fitz were sleeping together if they saw it? It was like a freeze frame of what was happening between her and Fitz during the campaign. But fortunately for Olivia and Fitz, the people around them saw what they wanted to see – a hardworking and dedicated campaign fixer and the Republican nominee for President. Since Olivia had a reputation for being a "political nun" and Fitz had a reputation for being very charming, no one during the campaign took notice of what was so plainly obvious for all to see – that the future President of the United States was in love with a woman who wasn't his wife.

Olivia sighed. Why did she torture herself with these memories? She had done the right thing, forcing Fitz to stay with Mellie. She had to believe that.

Olivia was still deep in thought when her cell phone rang. The number said private. Olivia's heart skipped a beat. It had been months since she and Fitz had last spoken but there were only a handful of people who had this cell number.

"Hello?"

_"Is this Olivia Pope?"_ a masculine voice asked. It wasn't Fitz. Olivia was disappointed.

"Who is this?" Olivia asked, irritated.

_"Is this Olivia Pope?"_ the male voice on the other end asked again.

"Yes, it is. But this is my private number. How did you get it?"

_"I would like to retain your services,"_ the man said, ignoring Olivia's question. His voice was cultured but the accent was foreign, and Olivia couldn't place it.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry but Pope & Associates isn't taking on any new clients right now," she lied easily. "And even if we were, we only accept new clients via referrals from past clients."

_"Oh, really?"_ the man said, a slight mocking tone coloring his voice. _"Well, that's disappointing you see because I was prepared to pay you six figures to help me resolve a situation a client of mine is currently facing."_

There was a pause. Olivia didn't say anything. Six figures?, she thought.

_"Ms. Pope? Are you still there?"_

"Yes, I am. Six figures, you said?"

_"Yes, I'm prepared to pay you a $125,000 monthly retainer. I anticipate the situation I need your assistance with could probably be resolved within three or four months, so you'd be looking at a total payment of $500,000."_

Olivia gulped. $500,000 would be the biggest payday Pope & Associates had ever received from a single client.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Olivia said in a neutral tone, trying not to betray the nervousness she was beginning to feel at the prospect that she was about to harpoon a whale of a client.

_"That's because I didn't give it,"_ the man said. _"I'd rather not get into details over the phone. Are you free tomorrow afternoon around 2 o'clock? We could meet at the Capital Grille. Come to the private dining room on the third floor."_

"Yes, that would be fine. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow at 2," Olivia said, intrigued. And with that, she hung up.

* * *

_**Author's note:** It seems like Fitz has adopted a positive outlook about life and is doing well. Olivia, on the other hand, is struggling both financially and emotionally. _

_Who is this mystery man on the other end of the phone? Is he friend or foe? _

_Your reviews are welcome and thanks for reading! _

_**Until next time….**_


	3. The Dossier

**_Author's Note: Another day, another chapter! Thanks for the words of encouragement and for reading. Please continue to leave feedback and reviews. Thanks! - Neo_  
**

**Chapter 2: The Dossier**

The mystery man hung up the phone. In less than 24 hours he would meet Olivia Pope and he had plenty of homework to do, homework that consisted of learning more about his target.

He pulled out the dossier his contact had sent to him earlier that morning via private courier. In it was a stack of paper documenting virtually Olivia Pope´s entire life since high school. The man poured himself a glass of brandy and then sat in an overstuffed leather chair in front of the fireplace with this treasure trove of documents he planned to study in advance of his lunch appointment with Ms. Pope.

**OLIVIA VICTORIA POPE**

**DOB**: 04-05-77, Bethesda, MD

**Marital Status**: Single, no kids

**Father**: Calvin J. Pope. Graduate of Harvard Law School. First African American in 1973 to become partner of Burbridge Cromwell Pryce, one of Washington's top law firms. Went on to become a trusted and unofficial adviser to 3 Republican presidents, Ronald Reagan and then with both Bush presidents, George Herbert Walker Bush and George W. Bush.

**Mother:** Henrietta (Etta) M. Pope (maiden name Taylor). Graduate of Barnard College and Teachers College, Columbia University. Started off as an elementary school teacher and eventually rose through the public school ranks to become superintendent of public schools in Washington D.C.

**Siblings**: 2 older brothers (Calvin Jr. and Michael Jeffrey) and a younger sister (Genevieve)

**Education:**

High School: Sidwell Friends, a Quaker private school located in Bethesda, MD.

College: Georgetown University's School of Foreign Service. Double major in political science and Middle Eastern Studies with a double minor in Arabic and French.

Law school: Stanford

**Work Experience:** After graduating _summa cum laude_ from Georgetown, went to work for McKinsey & Company, a firm that acts as an adviser to businesses and governments around the world. Assigned to McKinsey's office in London. Stayed there for three years. Took a year off to travel through Europe and Southeast Asia. Returned to the United States to attend Stanford Law School. After graduation, returns to the East Coast to work for Williams & Connolly, Washington D.C.'s go-to firm for politicos, celebrities and professional athletes.

In early 2008, takes a leave of absence from Williams & Connolly to go work on the presidential campaign of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. After the election, she becomes White House Communications Director and Special Adviser to the President.

In June 2009, leaves the position. Launches "Olivia Pope & Associates" in August 2009.

Also in the dossier were Olivia's federal income tax returns for the past five years along with recent bank statements for checking, savings and retirement accounts. The retirement account, in particular, showed a rapidly dwindling balance that appeared to have accelerated within the past six months. At the rate at which Ms. Pope was withdrawing money, it was certain that her retirement account would be depleted before the end of the year.

The man reading through the dossier put the file down. It still wasn't totally clear to him why his contact had selected Ms. Pope as an ideal target. Yes, she had worked for Pres. Grant, but based on her resume, she hadn't worked for him that long. The answer must lie somewhere within this stack of papers. He flipped through to the back of the stack and came across several clippings of magazine and newspaper articles. They were all written around the time of the 2008 presidential election. Each one spoke glowingly of this young, very attractive, well-spoken female attorney who seemed to have come out of nowhere to wield a lot of power and influence with the new Republican president.

One particular article caught his eye. It was a big, glossy Vanity Fair magazine spread with a gorgeous photo of Olivia Pope's face in profile. She had the face of a goddess and it was a striking portrait, shot in black and white. The headline of the story read "In Olivia Pope, Fitz Trusts." Underneath the secondary headline read: "From Underdog to Overachiever, How a Campaign Fixer Singlehandedly Won this Election for the G.O.P."

The man flipped through the pages of the magazine article and then stopped on a page that had a full-page photo of President Grant on the night of the election. It was a candid shot taken moments before President Grant and his vice president Sally Langston walked out onto the stage with their spouses to declare victory and accept the cheers and adoration of the electorate. The photo was set up perfectly. In it the President was standing backstage waiting for the signal to step forward. Standing to his right was Olivia Pope and was that…no, it couldn't be, the man thought.

The photo, shot in black & white, was a bit grainy and blurry. He didn't have his glasses, so he drew the magazine closer to his face and studied the photograph closely. In the photo he could see that the right hand of the newly elected President of the United States was touching the left hand of Ms. Pope and their fingers were almost intertwined. It was a surprisingly chaste but very intimate image. They were both facing forward, their backs to the camera, so they were completely unaware that this very private moment had been captured for posterity. And despite all the tumult and excitement and balloons and confetti swirling around the POTUS and the Campaign Fixer, the way the photo was framed it looked like they were the last two people on earth facing a bright future. Together.

In that moment, the man with the dossier knew that Olivia Pope was _**the ****one **_– the one person who would bring the President of the United States to his knees. She had been responsible for his rise and now, with a little nudge from external forces, she would be responsible for his downfall.

The man took another sip of his brandy. His face was bathed in the flickering light coming off the dwindling flames in the fireplace. A crooked smile snaked across his lips as he contemplated the future. A plan of attack was beginning to take shape.

_**Author's Note:** Looks like someone is doing some serious, deep level dirt digging on Olivia Pope. What are this mystery man's real intentions? Who is he and why does he want to bring down Fitz? Will he be able to use Olivia as his pawn?_

**_To be continued…._**


	4. Sweet Baby

**Author's Note: **_I'm writing this story a bit out of sequence. This chapter originally was going to be about the lunch meeting with Olivia and the Mystery Man, but I felt like we were overdue for some quality Fitz and Olivia time, so this chapter is the result and borrows heavily from the show. **Warning: This chapter contains mature content and is for adults, so if you don't like that sort of thing, stop reading now.** If it's too racy, let me know in the review/feedback section. Thanks in advance for reading and for the comments. _

**Chapter 3: Sweet Baby**

Although it wasn't an election year, the process of campaign fundraising was never ending. It was important for the president to be constantly out there raising funds. That's why when Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue magazine, offered to hold a $40,000 a person fundraising event at her fashionable D.C. townhouse, there was no way that Pres. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant was going to say no. There was also another reason why Fitz agreed. He knew that Olivia would be on the invite list and he was desperate to see her again.

As expected, Olivia was there, looking beautiful as always. She came alone, without a date, which pleased Fitz, but he kept his cool and was appropriately polite but distant when Anna Wintour brought Olivia over to him. The three of them made small talk for a minute or two before Mellie came over and pulled Fitz away.

Olivia found herself talking to some of the other party attendees and began to wonder how much longer she had to stay before she could make some excuse and leave. It made her uncomfortable to be in the same space as Fitz after everything that had happened and come between them. It wasn't that he seemed cold. It was worse. He seemed apathetic toward her, like he could take it or leave it, but either way he didn't care.

Olivia asked one of the waiters where the bathroom was and he pointed upstairs. But when Liv got there, Tom, a member of Fitz's Secret Service detail, was standing at the door. "Oh, sorry, Tom. I was looking for the bathroom. Is he in there?"

"No, ma'am. We've just blocked access to this bathroom for security reasons. You can go up to the third floor and use the bathroom in the master bedroom suite."

"OK, thanks, Tom," Olivia said appreciatively, and she continued making her way upstairs. When she got to the top of the staircase, the floor plan opened up into an incredible master bedroom suite. The bathroom was toward the back and the door was open. Olivia walked in and went right to the sink and turned on the water. She felt stressed out and her skin was flushed. There was a small stack of plush white hand towels and she grabbed one and wet it with ice cold water. She tilted her head up so that her neck was exposed. She closed her eyes and started to dab her neck and upper chest with the damp towel. Ahh, that felt good, she thought.

"Do you need any help with that?" said a sexy, male voice.

Olivia jumped and her eyes snapped open. Standing behind her, looking intently at her in the mirror was the President of the United States.

"Hi." he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

_**"Jesus Christ, Fitz! Oh my god,** **I mean Mr. President!**_ You almost gave me a heart attack!" Olivia said, shocked out of her mind to see Fitz standing there.

_"Sssshhh,"_ he said, coming closer toward her.

"Mr. President, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. With me. Alone," Olivia said, almost stammering.

"Ssssshhhh, sweet baby," Fitz said, taking his index finger and placing it gently on her lips. "Don't say another word. Just stand here with me for a minute. Just one minute."

Their eyes were locked on one another. Olivia tried to look away but she couldn't. She was under his spell. She began to quiver as Fitz drew closer and closer to her. He smelled good and the air of masculinity that surrounded him was intoxicating. Olivia knew that she was just moments away from surrendering to the passion that was swirling around them.

"Please don't touch me. Please don't...don't...touch me," Olivia whimpered as Fitz leaned in and slipped his hand under her jacket and pulled her in close. Olivia gasped as she felt how hard and aroused he was and that made her hot. Her breathing became jagged.

"Look at me," Fitz whispered. "Look at me."

Olivia's head was turned down and to the side and her eyes were closed. Fitz took advantage of the angle and began to gently kiss and nibble the side of her neck. His right hand slid up under her blouse and started to work its way up to her breasts.

"Look at me," Fitz whispered again.

Olivia opened her eyes and looked at him. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins. It was either fight or flight, but Olivia wanted to do nothing more than drown in the pool of Fitz's beautiful grey-blue eyes.

Fitz could see his desire reflected in Olivia's eyes. He leaned down and took her face into his huge hands and hungrily kissed her. Her response was immediate when his tongue connected with hers. She pressed her body up against his tall, tight, muscled frame and reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. The kissing became more intense and Fitz slid a hand under Olivia's skirt and pulled off her thong. Then in one swift move, he lifted Olivia up onto the bathroom counter and spread her legs open. His hand stroked her inner thigh and whatever little resistance Olivia still had was quickly melting away. Fitz continued to kiss her while his hand made itself up her thigh. When his hand finally arrived at its desired destination, he slid a finger inside her, where it was sticky and wet. Olivia began to moan.

"Say my name," Fitz whispered into Olivia's ear.

"I….I…." Olivia was almost incoherent.

"Say my name…." he said insistently, as he dipped two fingers deep inside of her. He was taking her to the edge when he heard _**"FITZ! WAKE UP!"**_

"Huh? What's happening?" Fitz bolted upright in bed. Sitting at the foot of the bed wearing lacy lingerie was Mellie.

"Oh brother, did you have another one of those Olivia Pope wet dreams?" Mellie asked sarcastically.

Fitz just glared at her. Mellie always found a way to cut him down.

"I called Mrs. Hadley and cancelled your morning appointments," Mellie said coyly. "Since you're already warmed up, I figured you wouldn't mind spending some quality time in bed servicing your wife."

Fitz gave her a stone cold glare. "Mellie, I wouldn't fuck you if you were even the last hole on earth."

And with that, Fitz got out of bed and went to take a shower where he could finish out his Olivia Pope fantasy in peace.

_**Author's Note: OK, guys, this chapter was a raunchy classic bait and switch. It was just a little too good to be true, Fitz and Olivia back together again, right? But was it too racy and raunchy? Let me know in the feedback. Thanks for reading!**_


	5. Collateral Damage

_**Author's Note: OK, back in the saddle after taking the weekend off from writing. This chapter is back to business as well. Consider this chapter as continuing to build the foundation of what's to come. So, unfortunately, no racy stuff this time around. Hopefully, that won't stop you from reading this latest installment. Enjoy! – Neo**_

**Chapter 4 - Collateral Damage**

"So, gentlemen, what's on today's agenda," the President of the United States asked. It was the POTUS' daily security briefing and sitting in the Oval Office with Fitz was Cyrus Beene, his chief of staff, Cameron Reynolds, Director of the CIA and Ian "Mac" MacMillan, National Security Advisor.

"Sir, there are indications that a new terrorist cell in Pakistan is gaining strength and is possibly planning an attack on the West," said Cam.

"What sort of indications?" asked Fitz.

"U.S. military intelligence have been tracking imports of bombmaking materials and in recent weeks there has been an uptick in a particular chemical."

"What chemical?" Cyrus asked.

"Ammonium Nitrate," responded Mac, the National Security Advisor. "It's used in fertilizer but also used to make bombs."

"Afghanistan banned the use and storage of ammonium nitrate for that very reason two years ago," Cam interjected. ¨So although it isn't illegal in neighboring Pakistan to use ammonium nitrate, this recent increase in purchases of it right across from the Afghan border has caught our attention."

"Is this al Qaeda?" asked Fitz.

"No, sir, all indications are that this is a splinter group that may sympathize with al Qaeda but is not part of the core group," responded Cam.

"Are you sure?" Cyrus asked.

"As sure as we can be under the circumstances but as you know it's virtually impossible to be 100% sure when you're up against a nameless, faceless enemy with no central command," said Mac.

"So, what, exactly is the threat assessment and do you have any assets on the ground?" Fitz asked.

"It's unclear who or what the target is," replied Cam. "The CIA is working closely with British intelligence. MI-6 has an asset on the ground who is close to infiltrating the group, from what we understand."

"Mr President, the United States must be ready to take preemptive action, if it comes to that, to neutralize this threat," said Mac.

Ian MacMillan was a formidable presence. He was 6'5" and at the age of 66, still had the mien of a Marine, which he had been in his youth. The American-born son of Scottish immigrants, "Mac" as he was called, was an old school Republican, a throwback and decorated military veteran who served under Reagan and the first George Bush. He was there when the Berlin Wall fell and when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait, leading to the first Gulf War. He knew the ins and outs of D.C. politics and understood how quickly the stakes could be raised when it came to U.S. foreign policy. Mac initially intimidated Fitz because of his long and distinguished service to two presidents prior to the Grant administration. It also didn't help that Mac had been a very high profile and vocal supporter of Sally Langston and had even been rumored to be her vice presidential pick if she had nabbed the Republican nomination. But Cyrus had convinced Fitz that he needed an elder statesman like Mac on his team and so here they were.

Fitz looked at his National Security Advisor intently. "Mac, what exactly are you saying? That I should be prepared to bomb Pakistan? They are an ally of the United States."

"An ally in name only, sir," replied Mac. "I'm not suggesting you bomb the entire country. But perhaps a series of drone attacks on a few select, key targets would send a clear message that the West will strike first."

"Gentleman, let's not make any rash decisions. Bring me more intelligence so that I can make a fully informed decision," Fitz said. "Also, we need to consider the potential collateral damage and the implications for U.S. foreign policy in the region."

"Collateral damage?" Mac asked. "Sir, there will always be collateral damage. There's no way to avoid it."

* * *

The sun was shining when Olivia left her office to head over to the Capital Grille for her 2 p.m lunch with her mystery caller. Rain had been in the forecast but it was obvious that the Accuweather guy had gotten it wrong again. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and Olivia was feeling oddly optimistic about the stranger she was about to meet.

Olivia arrived a few minutes early and when she told the hostess that she was meeting someone in the private dining room, she was quickly escorted up to the third-floor. When she opened the door, inside there was only a waiter and a man seated at the table. He appeared to be in his mid to late forties and with jet black hair, bushy eyebrows and a swarthy olive complexion, he appeared to be Middle Eastern of origin. He wasn't particularly attractive but there was a powerful aura that enveloped him, like he either had access to money or influence or both.

"Ms. Pope, I presume?" said the man, rising from his seat. "My name is Farheed Davi. I'm so delighted that you came." He stretched out a hand to shake Olivia's.

"Yes, pleased to meet you," Olivia said, shaking his outstretched hand. She was immediately struck by how cold and clammy his handshake was.

Mr. Davi pulled out a chair for Olivia and then in a very courtly manner seated her. Olivia found it oddly charming and kind of old-fashioned.

Once they were seated, Mr. Davi got right to the point.

"Well, Ms. Pope, I'm not going to keep you in suspense any longer and will cut to the chase. I am an attorney who has been retained by a Pakistani charity looking to raise funds in the West. This charity has built an all-girls' school in a remote area of Pakistan. However, due to unfortunate circumstances, this charity has been labeled an affiliate of an organization on the United States government's terrorist watch list. It's a complete and utter lie and I need your help getting that ban lifted."

The waiter, who had just filled Olivia's water glass, stepped away from the table and she took a sip.

"Well, Mr. Davi, you haven't told me how come the U.S. government would suspect this charity of having terrorist ties," Olivia said.

"It's very simple. The U.S. war on terror has swept up many innocent people and organizations that have nothing at all to do with terrorism. What happened in this case is that this girls' school was started by the widow of an imam who formerly had run a _madrassa_."

"A _madrassa_? You mean a religious school for boys?" Olivia asked.

"Yes, a _madrassa_, a Muslim school for boys and young men," Mr. Davi replied. "After 9-11, when the United States went crazy, this particular madrassa fell under a lot of scrutiny a few years later because one of its graduates was the relative of a man who was arrested in connection with the 2005 London bus bombings. Since then any organization that has had even the most remote tie to this madrassa has fallen under intense scrutiny by both British and U.S intelligence agencies. The madrassa shut down in 2008 when the imam died and two years later his widow opened a school for girls in another part of the country. I can assure you that this charity has no ties, whatsoever, to any terrorist or extremist activity."

"Well, Mr. Davi, I'm not exactly sure what I can do to help," Olivia said, taking a sip from her water glass.

"Ms. Pope, your reputation as a fixer precedes you," Mr. Davi said, giving her a small smile. "My client and I are hoping that you can help us gain some positive media exposure for the work that this charity is doing in Pakistan. If people in the West can see how young girls' lives are being transformed, thanks to this school, it could go a long way to removing the stigma that is currently hanging over the entire organization."

Olivia put the water glass back on the table and with her fingertips gently pushed it away from her plate.

"And this retainer that you've proposed to pay - $125,000 a month. If you don't mind me being so blunt…how does a charity in the hills of Pakistan have the financial resources to pay such a retainer? Who exactly is backing this charity?"

"Ms. Pope, I'm not at liberty to say. All I can tell you is that a wealthy benefactor left a generous donation to the charity. I can provide you with financial statements indicating that the money exists and that it came from a legitimate source," Mr. Davi replied.

Olivia looked intently at the man sitting across from her. He was obviously well spoken and well educated but there was something slightly sinister about him that unnerved her. She looked directly into Mr. Davi's eyes and that's when she noticed what was odd about him. His eyes were two different colors, one was brown and the other was hazel.

Olivia gave him a tight smile. She felt uneasy in his presence and her gut was already telling her that something didn't seem right.

"Look, Mr. Davi, thank you for inviting me to lunch and for telling me about this opportunity, but like I told you over the phone, my firm isn't taking on any new clients right now, " Olivia said, lying.

"Ms. Pope, let's be frank. You are curious and intrigued by my offer. If there wasn't even the least bit of interest on your part, you wouldn't be sitting here right now," Mr. Davi said, knowingly.

Olivia didn't respond and instead reached for her water glass to take another sip.

"I know that women's issues and empowering young females is something you feel very strongly about," Mr. Davi continued.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"Come now, Ms. Pope, in this day and age of social media it's easy to discover where one's interests lie. Also you have made no secret of the fact that you are a supporter of several groups that are working both in the U.S. and overseas to advance women's issues and fight for gender equality."

"Well, you've certainly done your homework, and I'm sorry if you feel like I've wasted your time today but my firm really can't take on this assignment right now. It's just not a good strategic fit for my firm," Olivia said.

"What will it take for you to reconsider?" Mr. Davi said, a trace of desperation tinged his voice. "I'll admit that perhaps I'm not the best spokesperson for this project. If you could only come to Pakistan and see the school for yourself, talk to the girls and their parents and see the good work that the charity is doing over there. Lives are being transformed. Entire family trees are being rewritten thanks to the education these girls are getting. Wouldn't you want to be part of a potential quiet revolution that is coming in that part of the world? Think about the legacy you could create by helping this cause."

"Well, when you put it like that…." Olivia said, chuckling lightly.

"So, will you consider it then?" Mr. Davi said, hopefully. "I would be prepared to pay you two months' retainer in advance."

Two months' retainer was $250,000. _**Wow.**_ That was _**a lot of cash**_ to get upfront. In fact it was an unheard of amount to be paid in advance before a single task had been completed. But Olivia's money woes would be erased in a flash if she had that money. Maybe she should seriously consider this offer. After all Pope & Associates had no other viable prospects waiting in the wings. Olivia felt like despite her slight misgivings about Mr. Davi personally, she needed to consider this opportunity. She would have Huck do a thorough background check on Mr. Davi and his charity and then decide.

"Mr. Davi, I will consider it," Olivia said, dipping into her Chloé handbag and whipping out her Moleskine notebook. She jotted down a few items and then ripped out the page and handed it to Mr. Davi. "Get me the following documents by end of business tomorrow and I will have my answer for you by next Friday."

Olivia stood up and Mr. Davi did likewise. "Thank you, Ms. Pope. I'll be in touch." He stuck out his clammy hand again and Olivia wanted to avoid touching it, but she knew that would seem rude, so she shook it quickly, then turned and walked away.

When she stepped out of the restaurant, she looked up at the sky. Twenty minutes earlier it had been bright and sunny, but now the sky had turned dark and stormy. A light rain began to fall.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Oh boy, Olivia's antenna is throwing up warning signals left and right but it looks like she's going to override what her gut instincts are telling her. And Fitz is being pressured to possibly take military action in Pakistan. How and when will these two (Fitz and Olivia) scenarios collide?**_

_**Leave feedback and your predictions in the reviews. Thanks for reading!**_


	6. Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

**Chapter 5: Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered**

It was after 9 p.m. and Olivia was still at the office. The documentation she had requested from Mr. Davi had arrived three hours earlier and Olivia wanted to go through it first before passing it along to Huck to do a more thorough background check. Olivia was deep in thought when her cell phone rang. She picked it up, saw the number and her brow furrowed in a frown. "What the hell?" she thought, staring at the name and number. She didn't answer the call and put the iPhone in her pocket.

Olivia got up and went to the office kitchen. She needed a drink but knew that if she drank anything harder than a cup of tea, she'd regret it later since it was always a bad idea for her to drink on an empty stomach. She hadn't eaten in hours.

While she was waiting for her cup of water to heat up in the microwave, she heard her cell phone chime. Incoming text message. Olivia went and picked up the phone. The message read "_no u r there. ans ur phone"_

Olivia sighed and cursed under her breath. She had enough to worry about. She didn't need this aggravation.

Within seconds, the phone chirped again. This time, Olivia answered it.

"What do you want?" Olivia said angrily.

_"Nice to speak with you too, Liv,"_ said a female voice. _"I know it's been a while, but geez…"_

"Mellie, what the hell do you want?" Olivia said, practically spitting the question out. "Why are you calling me?"

_"Is that any way to speak to an old friend?"_ said Mellie Grant, First Lady of the United States. _"What on earth has happened to your manners, Olivia!"_

"We didn't exactly part on good terms, if you remember," said Olivia bitterly. "If you don't tell me right now why you're calling, I'm going to hang up."

"_Look, Liv, do you really think I would be calling you, after all this time, if it wasn't important?"_

"Mellie, I'm warning you, get to the goddamned point, or I swear to God, I'm going to hang up!"

_"OK, OK. Look, this isn't easy for me either. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be making this call but I'm being forced to do so,"_ Mellie said.

Olivia snorted. "You? Forced? Ha!"

_"Yes, forced. Francois de Juillerat, the new president of France, is coming to Washington later this week and his new trophy wife, Margaux, insists that you join us for lunch. I'm afraid she's going to make an international incident out of this if you don't show up,"_ Mellie said, exasperated.

"What?" said Olivia. "Why on earth would she want me there?"

_"Turns out that she read that Vanity Fair article about you being the primary architect of Fitz's presidential campaign and she supposedly was struck by your sense of style,"_ Mellie said, her voice dripping with disdain. _"Look, when Margaux called me personally and asked me to arrange this little women's luncheon for the three of us, I couldn't very well tell her no. I mean, come on, how would that look? It would just raise more questions and potentially cause me problems."_

"Oh, right, and, of course, we wouldn't want to cause **YOU** any problems," Olivia said, sarcastically. As soon as the words left her mouth, however, Olivia regretted it and hoped that Mellie wouldn't play her trump card.

_"Olivia, you know that I'd sooner gouge my eye out with a red hot poker before I would call you for help. If I'm calling you now to ask you for this favor, it is important. Not to me, but to Fitz."_

Olivia inwardly groaned. Mellie went there. She played the Fitz trump card. God dammit!

_"How will it look to the French president that his new, glamorous wife made a simple request to have lunch with some lowly former American bureaucrat and the President of the United States was unable to deliver?"_

"Mellie, I'm far too busy to be sucked into this little game, and as far as we are both concerned, I no longer exist to you. Tell the first lady of France that you were unable to reach me or that I had a prior commitment."

"_Olivia, I can't see why this is such a problem for you. Just one little lunch. 90 minutes of your time. The conversation will be very superficial and will probably revolve around French fashion. Besides, you and the First Lady of France have a lot in common. Before she got married to the French president, she was his mistress. So between your love of fashion and married men, I think the two of you will hit it off splendidly," _Mellie said, triumphantly.

That Mellie. She always knew how to hit below the belt.

"You are such a bitch," Olivia snarled into the phone.

_"So, I take it that that's a yes?"_ Mellie asked brightly. _"One of my aides will email you the details and leave a pass for you at the White House security gate."_

Olivia didn't respond.

_"And, Liv? Please don't be late."_ The line went dead.

Olivia slammed down the phone on her desk and cursed.

* * *

The day of the First Ladies' luncheon at the White House, Olivia had butterflies in her stomach. At first she told herself that it was because she was feeling intimidated about meeting the French First Lady, Margaux, who was a great beauty and well known for her impeccable sense of style. But Olivia knew, deep down, that she was feeling nervous over the prospect of seeing Him again after all of these months. How would he respond to seeing her after all these months? Olivia hoped she wouldn't see him, that he'd be busy with the French president and nowhere near the White House private dining room where she, Mellie and Marguax would be eating. But Olivia resolved that if she did see him, she would be professional and stoic. What other choice did she have?

Olivia picked her outfit with care. She selected a conservative but stylish navy blue Lanvin wrap dress that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage. She paired it with a pair of beige patent leather Christian Louboutin heels that showed off her legs beautifully. She decided to wear her long hair up. It was a different look from her standard "gladiator in a suit" attire, but she felt it was appropriate to go with a softer look for this ladies-only lunch.

Margaux was a delight and, in spite of herself, Olivia was enjoying the lunch. After an initially awkward start, Mellie seemed to find her inner Stepford Wife and was putting on an Academy Award winning performance for the First Lady of France. To a casual observer, Mellie acted as though Olivia was one of her oldest and most cherished friends.

They were eating dessert when they heard men's voices coming towards the dining room. Olivia's body tensed up as she recognized the familiar baritone voice of her beloved. She silently prayed that Fitz wouldn't come inside.

Margaux heard the voices as well and recognized her husband's voice. She called out, in French, to him and Olivia inwardly groaned. Oh boy, here it comes, she thought to herself.

The double doors opened and in walked in the President of France, the POTUS and Cyrus Beene. The French president smiled broadly at his wife and Mellie, and he gave both women kisses on the cheeks. Then his eye was drawn to Olivia, who was standing off to the side. Fitz, who had entered the room wearing his most practiced politician smile, did a double take the moment he saw Olivia. He had no idea she was on the premises and the sight of her standing there, in the flesh, after six months apart, left him speechless.

_"Bonjour,"_ the French President said to Olivia.

_"Bonjour,"_ Olivia said, smiling.

"Mr. President," Mellie said brightly, stepping forward, "I'd like you to meet Olivia Pope She's one of our dearest friends and the former communications director for the White House."

"Yes, I know who she is," the French president said, smiling. "She is what you Americans call a fixer. From what I've read, she's the best there is. Isn't that so,_ Mademoiselle Pope?"_

"Why, thank you," Olivia said, blushing.

Fitz cleared his throat. "Well, Francois, you know how we Americans love to exaggerate. One shouldn't necessarily believe everything that they read."

Mellie shot Fitz a look while Olivia looked down. Fitz's throwaway remark was like a dagger to her heart. It was clear that Fitz had not forgiven her and was still angry with her.

"We were having dessert. Would you gentlemen like to join us for coffee?" Mellie asked sweetly.

Fitz looked annoyed. "I really don't think we have time," said Cyrus, nervously.

"Nonsense!" said Margaux. "That is the problem with America. You don't take time to just relax and enjoy life. Come, sit down, have a coffee with us."

Fitz was trying not to look directly at Olivia, but from the side of his eye, he could tell that she looked good. Very good. Her tight little body was sheathed in a tastefully sexy wrap dress that hugged her slight curves in all the right places. Fitz purposely approached her from behind so that he could check out her rear view. Yep, the onion booty was still there. A glimmer of a smile momentarily crossed his lips.

As the three men joined the women at the table, Fitz chose the seat directly across from Olivia, and as soon as he sat down, he regretted it. For Fitz, it was sensory overload. Sitting across from Olivia was like facing the sun. She looked stunning and he was blinded by her beauty. Her hair was up, in a style he had never seen her wear before, and her delicate, ballerina neck was on display for all to see. With her hair pulled up and away from her face in a stylish _chignon_, the features of her lovely face were on display for all to see. He couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, but a strand of her hair had come loose and was lightly grazing her cheek. It was a new look for her. Softer, more feminine, if it were even possible for Liv to be more feminine. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

Olivia, could feel the heat of his stare on her and was increasingly feeling more and more uncomfortable. She began to breathe deeply, in an attempt to calm her nerves.

Fitz noticed the rise and swell of her chest as she breathed. A simple silver necklace she was wearing pointed directly toward her cleavage and Fitz noticed that her bosom looked fuller than he remembered it. Was it the bra she was wearing, he wondered? Both the bra and the dress material were thin and the air conditioning in the White House was already turned up to the max, so with the chill in the air there was a hint of her nipples poking through the dress. Fitz licked his lips. Olivia's entire presence filled the room and caused him to think impure thoughts. He couldn't believe it. He was still angry with her, pissed actually about how she had railroaded him into staying with Mellie, but in that moment he wanted to throw Olivia on the dining room table, hitch up that dress and take her right there.

He knew it was wrong, but he had gotten a little jolt of satisfaction earlier when he made that cutting remark telling the French president not to believe the hype about Olivia Pope. Fitz could tell that it had pricked her ego a little. She deserved it. She needed to suffer for what she had denied him. He wasn't going to give her any indication that he still loved her. That he still craved her.

The conversation among the group was light and superficial, but Margaux could see the non-interaction between Mellie and Fitz and could sense Olivia's discomfort. Watching the three of them, the French First Lady realized the true nature of things – that Mellie and Fitz were in a sham of a marriage - and in that moment of realization she knew why she had felt so drawn to Olivia because she too had once been the other woman.

Underneath the table, Olivia's feet were antsy. She was feverishly tapping her right foot on the plush dining room carpet. The tablecloth shielded her feet from view so nobody could see what she was doing. But without meaning to, Olivia accidentally kicked Fitz's leg under the table. He jumped a little and cast her a stern look. Olivia made a little face and slowly mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

Seeing her full, luscious lips fashion those words out of thin air drove Fitz to distraction. He cleared his throat and looked away because he knew if he maintained his glance a moment longer, he'd be in serious trouble, "unable to leave the table until his raging hard-on subsided" kind of trouble.

For a second, Olivia felt cut down and rejected again, but then she noticed how Fitz was tapping his fingers on the table. He was feeling antsy himself. She silently smiled to herself and decided that she would turn the tables on Fitz and give him a taste of his own medicine. He had tried to make her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome by staring at her. Well, two could play that game.

She kicked off one of her heels and then slowly stretched her right leg across. She delicately moved her foot up until it hitched under Fitz's pant leg. With the grace of a dancer, she slid her foot up his pant leg and began to swirl the tips of her toes around the top of his sock covered ankle. She looked across at Fitz. There was no visible reaction. He was completely ignoring her. His head was turned away and he was speaking to the president of France who was seated right next to him.

Cyrus, who was sitting next to Liv, made a comment and Fitz turned his head to look at him. But to look at Cyrus, Fitz's glance first had to pass by Olivia. As their eyes momentarily met, Fitz noticed a devilish glint appear in Olivia's eyes. Then, without warning, a soft kneading sensation began to spread in his crotch area. Olivia was using her foot like a sex toy, pressing and rubbing her foot up against his crotch area, back and forth, up and down, around and around. The response from his body was immediate and the erection he had was so hard he knew that if he didn't get release right away, he would be ruined. He couldn't believe it. This woman was literally going to be the death of him.

Suddenly, Fitz stood up, and quickly excused himself, saying there was something he needed to do right away.

Mellie looked confused, Cyrus and the President of France just shrugged while Olivia and Margaux, the First Lady of France exchanged knowing looks. Olivia put her head down and smiled a little smile.

The group carried on their conversation a little while longer when suddenly, the fire alarm went off.

"What the heck…?" said Cyrus. "This never happens. We need to evacuate right away."

Olivia leaned down and quickly slid her feet back into her shoes and as she was getting up to walk out of the dining room with the others, a Secret Service agent she had never seen before popped up out of the hallway and said "Ms. Pope? Please come with me."

Olivia was puzzled and said, "I'm going with the others" but the agent insisted that she come with him. They were walking quickly down the hall, headed toward the West Wing. Olivia called out to the agent, "I'm sorry, but why are we going this way? Is this a real emergency or a fire drill?" But the agent told her to keep moving. Then suddenly, he stopped and told her to stand in front of a door, that he needed to go back and get something. Olivia was wondering why he was talking so loudly when she could hear him just fine.

"Wait right here," he said. "Don't move. I'll be right back." And then he was gone.

Olivia was standing there thinking, _this is bullshit,_ and was about to turn and walk away when the door behind her opened and a strong arm grabbed her by the waist and scooped her up. Olivia shrieked and then a huge hand clamped across her mouth. The room was dark and the shades were drawn. The sound of the fire alarm was still ringing in Olivia's ears but she was now officially scared. She wanted to scream but this hand, a man's hand was covering her mouth. She began to struggle and wiggle to try and get away but she couldn't. Then she heard it. The voice. His deep, sexy voice.

"Say it." Fitz said, removing his hand from her mouth. He flipped on the light switch. They were in his private study, a small office off to the side of the Oval Office. It was a room that few people ever saw.

Olivia swallowed hard. She didn't want to look at him. She couldn't look at him.

Fitz had Olivia pinned against the door. She was trapped. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

"Say it," he said again, this time in a kind of a low growl.

Olivia was gasping for air. "Say what?" she asked, frightened and turned on at the same time.

"Say that you missed me," he said in a low whisper.

Olivia didn't respond. Her head was turned to the side.

"This….**_feel this_**…feel what you do to me," he took her small, delicate hand and moved it over the extremely prominent bulge at the front of his pants. "_You did this._**_You."_**

Fitz leaned in further. Every breath that Olivia exhaled, Fitz inhaled. He wanted release and Olivia wasn't going anywhere until she surrendered.

"Mr. President, let me go. There's a fire in the building. We have to get outside," Olivia said weakly.

"I'm not letting you go until you say it. Say that you missed me. Say that you still want me," Fitz said, a hint of anger in his deep voice.

Olivia began to panic. The White House could be on fire and here she was, trapped with the POTUS in a room that hardly anyone knew about. Where the heck was the Secret Service? This was a national disaster in the making.

And yet, she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay here with him, doing unmentionable things to his body. But she knew that they were both in danger and they had to get out.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Olivia shrieked as she started pounding on his broad chest, struggling to get away from him.

Fitz silenced her by planting a deep kiss on her full, luscious lips. A jolt of electricity passed through the both of them and as Fitz hungrily devoured her lips, Olivia's resolve melted and she kissed him back equally as hard. When they came up for air, Olivia's rational side popped up, like it always does, and she said, "we need to get out of here. The White House could be burning down right now."

Fitz looked down at her and said softly, "There is no fire. I pulled the fire alarm and asked my secret service agent to bring you here."

Olivia sobered up immediately. "What? Are you crazy? You pulled the fire alarm? What are you like in the fifth grade now? Jesus Christ, Fitz!"

Fitz laughed and pulled Olivia close. "This is all your fault. You can't come into a man's house looking like this, play footsie with him, get him all worked up and not expect there to be a huge reaction."

Olivia knew that he was right. She wanted to laugh but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. She wanted to be mad at him but she couldn't. He was just too damn adorable. So she did the only thing that felt right at that moment. She unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick member. She knelt down in front of him, like she was praying at an altar, and gave Fitz his release.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and feedback. Dettylover, yep, you're on the right track with your predictions. :)  
**

**Regarding this latest chapter, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it. I may decide to go back and revise it and change several parts of it. Let me know what you think. _Merci beaucoup!_**


	7. Author's Note: The Observer Effect

**Author's Note: The Observer Effect  
**

**WOW!** Your reaction to Chapter 5: "Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered" was **_ah-mazing! _** A huge **"THANK YOU"** to everyone who read and left reviews. It's incredibly gratifying to me to know that so many of you are enjoying the story and are really getting into it.

I will be honest with you. Your feedback is changing the structure of the story I originally planned.

When I opened this Fan Fiction account earlier this month, I did so solely for the purpose to get this kernel of an idea about Fitz and Olivia out of my head and put it down on "paper" so to speak. I had a very clear sense of how I wanted the story to end, but no clue about how I was going to get to that ending. In fact, the very first chapter I wrote for this story, called "April in Paris," is actually a chapter that you're not going to see until much later on.

It's kind of a weird way to write a story, writing it out of sequence, but the scene was so vivid and clear in my mind when it initially came to me that I had to get it down. That particular chapter, ("April in Paris"), flowed right out of me. After I wrote that, I opened the Fan Fiction account, and then I wrote the prologue. A day after writing the prologue, I briefly sketched out the story, chapter by chapter, as I envisioned it.

But here's the thing - your feedback and comments are now changing the structure of the story as I originally planned it, which I think is a good thing. It's a bit of "the observer effect," where something that is being watched changes because it's being watched. In other words, you reading and reacting to my words is causing me to change the path of the story in ways I didn't anticipate when I started the story two weeks ago.

**Your feedback and reviews have reinforced the following:**

Fitz = good

Olivia = good

Fitz + Olivia = better

**Angry/Horny/Jealous/Sexy Fitz = BEST!**

LOL!

Some of you are probably reading this and rolling your eyes thinking that I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, that people can't get enough of Fitz and Liv. But still, it's good for me to get that feedback in the reviews.

I'm now finding that my original storyline needs to be revamped and rearranged. It's going to be a huge challenge for me to find creative ways to inject more Fitz-Livi juiciness in the coming chapters. I'm not sure I'll be able to consistently deliver, but I'm going to try.

As always, thanks so much for reading and for sticking with me as I make my way through this story, and keep those reviews coming.

Thank you!

Neo


	8. Only Girl In the World

**Chapter 6: Only Girl (In the World)**

Olivia's heart hurt. Her little sexcapade with Fitz in his private study that afternoon had left her feeling abandoned, empty and sad. Now she was back in her office, lying down on her couch with a cold, damp towel over her forehead. Maybe the feelings of emptiness stemmed from the fact that she and Fitz didn't get to finish what they started. Olivia thought back to just two hours earlier. While she was in the middle of servicing Fitz's cock, there was an urgent knocking on the door.

_"Mr. President! You need to wrap things up. The Secret Service is allowing staff back into the building."_ It was Carl, the agent who had come to fetch Olivia minutes earlier.

Fitz groaned. "Thanks, Carl," the POTUS said. "I'll be out momentarily."

Fitz looked down and pulled Olivia up from her knees._ "Livvie…,"_ he started to say, but Olivia hushed him by placing an index finger over his lips. She straightened out her dress and then reached for her purse and searched for her compact mirror. Fitz zipped up his pants and stood behind Olivia who had turned her back to him. She was looking in the mirror, wiping her lips and trying to erase all visible signs that moments before her sweet mouth had been wrapped around his cock. Fitz put his arms around Olivia's slim waist and pulled her in close. While she continued to freshen up her makeup, Fitz leaned down and nuzzled her neck.

"Fitz, please, don't…" Olivia said. "I've got to get out of here."

"I know, but you smell good and taste good. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here with me. I need you, Livvie," Fitz said softly, nuzzling her neck.

"Fitz, _please…."_ Olivia said, her voice trailing off. Fitz could tell she was getting upset. He turned her around to face him. Her head was down.

"Livvie…look at me," Fitz said as he gently lifted her chin up. He put the errant strand of hair that was grazing her cheek behind her ear. "We're not finished. Not by a long shot."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Olivia asked, her tone slightly defiant.

Fitz shook his head. The emotional wall was going back up. "Olivia Pope, always the tough guy. You won't talk about your feelings but I know that you still feel something for me. Something real."

"Mr. President, let's not rehash the past. This, here, today, was a mistake," Olivia said, breaking free from Fitz's light embrace and turning toward the door to leave.

Fitz reached out for her arm to try to stop her. Her hand was on the doorknob. Fitz placed his hand on top of hers to stop her from turning it.

Their eyes met. Olivia's eyes were misty. It was clear to Fitz she was trying not to cry. He took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. He then looked her directly in the eye while he turned her hand over. _"You. Me. This,"_ he said softly, _"is not a mistake,"_ as his open mouth planted moist tender kisses starting from the palm of her hand, to the inside of her wrist to the final destination of her lips.

Olivia could feel herself beginning to melt. Again. She reached for the door and this time Fitz didn't stop her from leaving.

Olivia was replaying the afternoon's events in her mind when Huck entered her office.

"Liv, you alright?" Huck asked, concern filling his voice.

"Yes, Huck, just a really bad headache, nothing serious," said Olivia.

"Are you sure? You don't look so good. Maybe you should go home?" Huck said.

Olivia chuckled. "Huck, don't worry about me. What's up? Did you find anything of interest in those documents I gave you from that charity in Pakistan?"

"Yes and no," Huck said, wrinkling his brow.

"Well, what is it? Yes, you found something or no you didn't?" Olivia asked, slightly amused with Huck's typically opaque way of answering questions.

"Well, actually it's both. Yes, I did find something interesting, but no, they weren't in the documents," he replied.

"Huck, stop speaking in riddles. I need you to speak plainly," Olivia said, slightly exasperated.

"OK, well, I did a thorough background check, both online and offline, for this charity and it comes back squeaky clean. In fact it's a little too clean for my tastes," Huck said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everything checks out which is significant because generally with these kinds of charities in developing countries, there are usually a lot of gaps. Either gaps of financial info or gaps in the timeline of when things happened, etc. The fact that everything has been answered and addressed with complete documentation is a bit of a red flag, in my opinion," Huck said.

Olivia got up from the couch and walked over to her computer. She went online and typed in the web address of the charity. She had looked at it before but hadn't looked at it closely. It was a nice web site. Obviously done for a Western audience in mind with plenty of photographs and links to their Facebook, Twitter and YouTube sites at the top of the page.

"Olivia, why are you even interested in this charity? It's halfway across the world. Are you seriously taking them on as a client?" Huck asked.

"I haven't decided," Olivia responded. "It would be a great opportunity for this firm. We'd get international exposure and the retainer they're willing to pay us for a short-term project is too good to pass up"

"OK, well, I trust you," said Huck, turning to leave her office. "If you think this is a worthwhile project, you know I'll back you all the way."

"Thanks, Huck," Olivia said appreciatively.

* * *

Back at the White House, Fitz resumed his presidential duties. There was an afternoon call with the chancellor of Germany regarding the upcoming G8 economic conference and then a late afternoon meeting with the Speaker of the House regarding some legislation. Fitz sighed. He was tired. Tired of everything. This life wasn't what he wanted.

He thought back to earlier that afternoon to his time with Olivia. For a few brief moments he felt alive again. It had been six months since they had last seen each other and before had had seen her today he would've said he was doing just fine, thank you very much. But being in her presence again, hearing her voice, inhaling her scent, feeling her touch was all too much for him to process. Everything, - all the want, the longing, the desire for her that he thought had completely receded, - had now come rushing back and hit him like a tsunami.

That said, nothing had been resolved between them. Fitz was still annoyed with Olivia. In fact, seeing her and wanting her that desperately again and knowing that he couldn't fully have her, angered him. Why was she so unwilling to fight for him? For them? The bond between them obviously wasn't broken but it was definitely frayed and torn. But even in the midst of all this, Fitz decided that he'd rather feel this anger toward Olivia than to feel nothing at all. He would hold on to that feeling.

* * *

It was almost 7 p.m. Everyone had already left for the day and Olivia was alone in the office. She was thinking about what Huck had said about the Pakistani charity, that it checked out but seemed a little too good to be true. The clock was ticking and she had promised Farheed Davi that she would give him her response by Friday. Olivia decided that a compromise was in order. She opened her agenda and pulled out the business card Mr. Davi had given her. She dialed the number and waited. When the voice on the other end answered, Olivia said:

"Hello, Mr. Davi? Olivia Pope speaking. I've reviewed your documentation but there are still some remaining questions that need to be addressed."

_"Questions? Like what?"_ Mr. Davi replied.

"Questions that can only be answered if I can make a visit to the school. Once I've seen the school in person and had a chance to meet with some of the students, teachers and parents, then I will make a decision."

_"Ms. Pope, this is wonderful news,"_ Mr. Davi said, his voice brimming with excitement. _"I'm so glad that you've agreed to take on this assignment."_

**"No, no, no,"** Olivia said emphatically. "No, let me be clear. I have NOT agreed to take on this assignment. What I have agreed to do is to continue my process of due diligence on this potential client. Once I've been able to visit the school and see what it is about, then and only then will I make my final decision on whether or not I wish to take this charity on as a client and work with you."

_"Understood,"_ Mr. Davi replied. _"But I'm confident that once you see the school and meet the girls and their families, you will immediately know that this is exactly the type of organization your firm will want to be affiliated with. When can you make the trip?"_

"I was hoping we could schedule this for later next week," Olivia said.

_"Oh, that's a little too soon,"_ Mr. Davi said. _"Is there any way we could push it back to next month?"_

"Why? If this charity and school are legitimate, I would think you would want me to go as as soon as possible," Olivia replied.

_"Yes, of course, of course. I will begin to make the arrangements immediately,"_ Mr. Davi said. _"Thank you again, Ms. Pope. You won't regret this."_

As soon as he hung up the phone, Mr. Davi hit the speed dial on another number.

_"Hello?"_

"It's me. Activate the plan. The target will be there within 10 days," Mr. Davi said. "I'll get back to you later with further instructions."

The person at the other end hung up. No other explanation was necessary.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Dang! Fitz and Livie's afternoon tryst got derailed by those cockblockers called the Secret Service. LOL. Can't these two get some quality alone time together? Olivia continues to struggle with being the woman in the shadows, the "other woman." It's like the mafia, just when Olivia thinks she's out, Fitz pulls her back in.

Fitz, meanwhile, thinks he's still angry at Olivia but it's not so much that he's angry at her but that he's hurt that she continues to reject him, on some level, and he's angry and frustrated about their (impossible) situation.

And now this Davi character seems to be drawing Olivia into a trap. But what kind of trap is it?** _Stay tuned..._**and continue to leave reviews. I love hearing your theories and getting your feedback.

Thanks!

Neo


	9. Rockabye

**Chapter 7: Rock-a-bye**

"What the hell happened to you this afternoon? Why did you rush out like that?" Mellie was pissed. It was after 10 p.m. and this was the first time she was seeing Fitz since he had stormed out and left the luncheon with the French president earlier that day.

"I suddenly remembered that there was something that needed my attention," Fitz said wearily, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking off his shoes.

"And I suppose that conveniently timed fire alarm and then the disappearance of Olivia had nothing at all to do with it, right?" Mellie asked, sarcastically.

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?" Fitz said, yawning. "For someone who graduated top of her class at Harvard, you're not too bright sometimes."

"I don't fucking believe this! You and I, we have a deal! _**No interns, no aides, no Olivia Pope!"**_ Mellie screamed.

Fitz just looked at her. "That wasn't my deal, remember? That's a deal you made with Olivia, not me. And if it turns out that she's changed her mind and is backing out of YOUR deal, who am I to discourage her?" Fitz said, with a self-satisfied smirk.

The truth was that nothing had fundamentally changed between him and Olivia, but Mellie didn't know that. Fitz could be terribly passive aggressive when he wanted to be, and he relished the opportunity to rub Mellie's face in the fact that Olivia still had a lot of influence on him.

"Look, I don't know what the two of you are planning, but you both need to wake up and face reality," Mellie said. "There will be no happily ever after for you two ever. Never, ever, in a million years. Olivia knows this, at least, I thought she did."

Fitz laid back on the bed, spread eagle. He wished he could drown out Mellie's annoying voice and just fall asleep right then and there. Mellie was a constant reminder of how much he had grown to hate his life as POTUS.

Mellie looked at Fitz. He was just laying there on the bed, still dressed in his business attire, his legs dangling off the foot of the bed. She was trying to pick a fight with him and nothing. Fitz wasn't taking the bait. He didn't even seem like he was even listening to her. Before Olivia, they used to argue a lot. Now, the knock down dragged out fights had gone and had been replaced by a simmering resentment and apathy on the part of Fitz. He was no longer willing to be goaded into an argument with Mellie.

"Fitzgerald, are you even listening to me?" Mellie yelled. And then she realized that Fitz had fallen fast asleep. He was snoring and sleeping like a baby. In that moment, Mellie got confirmation that Fitz had indeed been intimate with Olivia earlier that day since he normally had trouble falling asleep. _"Damn you, Olivia Pope,"_ Mellie swore under her breath.

* * *

**Author's Note:** OK, this was just a quick hit of a chapter, a lull in the action. In the next chapter, the you know what is going to begin to hit the fan as Olivia heads to Pakistan. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Drag Me to Hell

**Author's Note: **_You guys are fab-**U**-lous! Your funny comments and reviews and feedback motivate me to keep moving this story along. I'm also **really** enjoying all the great fan fic on this site, especially in the Rated M category.** mmm-mmm-good!** (lol) Keep up the good work, everyone!_

_Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…. _:)

**Chapter 8: Drag Me to Hell  
**

_Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in Islamabad, Pakistan in approximately 30 minutes. In preparation for our final descent and landing at Benazir Bhutto International Airport, we ask that you please turn off all mobile and electronic devices and return any baggage you may have removed from the overhead bin…." _

The smooth professional voice of the flight attendant drifted through to Stephen's consciousness. With the exception of a bathroom break and the meal service, he had pretty much slept through the entire British Airways flight from London Heathrow.

Stephen was in the middle seat. To his right, in the window seat, was Huck, who was awake but was just staring straight ahead. Stephen drowsily turned his head to the left to look at Olivia, who had the aisle seat. She was tapping away on her iPad. He wasn't exactly sure what she was writing but she was in a zone of intense concentration.

"So, Liv, what's the game plan when we land," Stephen asked, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"A driver will pick us up and take us to the hotel. We'll have the rest of the day to decompress, adjust to the jet lag and then have an early start tomorrow morning to go to the girl's school," Olivia replied. "It's approximately a two day's journey by car to get there because of the remote location."

"Olivia, I still can't believe we're doing this," Stephen sighed. "Is this really worth it? I mean, you haven't even officially signed them as a client so this entire trip is just another expense for the firm."

Olivia didn't say anything and continued to tap on the screen of her iPad. She still hadn't told Stephen how much the potential retainer was going to be. _$125,000 a month**!**_ She felt that Stephen was on a need to know basis when it came to the firm's finances, and at this point, he didn't need to know.

"Look, Stephen, you've got to trust me on this. If this potential client weren't capable of paying, and paying big bucks, we wouldn't be sitting here right now. I told you that Huck did a background check and the check came back clean."

Stephen frowned. He could sense that Olivia wasn't giving him the full story, but what could he do at this point? Nothing. He leaned back in his seat and brought it back up to its upright position. "OK, Liv," he said.

And that was that.

* * *

Halfway across the world it was 3 a.m. in Washington, D.C. It had been 10 days since Fitz had last seen Olivia and his insomnia was back with a vengeance. He was restless and felt like going for a run, but it was 3 o'clock in the morning and it would've caused too much of a commotion with the Secret Service to even arrange to go down to the White House gym at this hour.

It was one of life's biggest ironies that Fitz was the most powerful man on the planet and yet he couldn't do some of the most basic things, like going for a run when he felt like it, that regular people took for granted. He sighed. He was restless and bored. Fitz decided to go shoot some pool in the library of the private residence of the White House. It had been several months since he had been in that room.

When he entered, he noticed a package sitting on the side table. It was addressed to him and a quizzical look crossed his face when he picked it up. He saw the return address. It was Olivia's office address and then Fitz remembered. She had sent this package to him months ago; the day after she and Mellie had ambushed him into not resigning. Fitz had been so angry and disgusted he played hooky from work the next day. He recalled how Mrs. Hadley, his secretary, had come up from the West Wing to hand deliver him the package. Once Fitz saw who it was from, he had put it aside in disgust without opening it. He had completely forgotten about it.

But now Fitz was in a different frame of mind. He was bored, restless and curious to see what Olivia had sent to him several months before. He eagerly tore the padded envelope open. Inside was a book, one of the greatest presidential biographies of all time: "Truman" by David McCullough.

Harry S. Truman, the 33rd president, was a man who wasn't supposed to be president and initially was written off by everyone. Truman, who was Franklin D. Roosevelt's vice president, became president during World War II when FDR died in office. During his presidency, Truman made a lot of tough, unpopular decisions - decisions that changed the fate of mankind, like dropping the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. But he also did a lot of good, like desegregating the U.S. military and creating the Marshall Plan, which gave Europe the money it needed to rebuild its economy after World War II.

Truman left office with terrible approval ratings, lower than Nixon's, but history has validated many of his decisions and with the passing of time he is now considered one of America's most courageous presidents.

Inside the book, Olivia had stuck a Polaroid photo of herself as a bookmark. It was a picture of her the night Fitz won Super Tuesday and in the photo Olivia was smiling brightly and raising a plastic cup filled with champagne in celebration.

Fitz opened to the book's first page and read the inscription Olivia had written there. It was a paraphrase of a quote by Shakespeare –

_**"Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust up****on them."**_

**Mr. President – Go be great. **

And underneath, it was signed simply:****** "O.P." **

Fitz smiled. He was glad that he was seeing this gift now because he certainly wouldn't have appreciated it six months ago. Although he still disagreed with her methods for keeping him in office, Fitz acknowledged that his administration was well on its way to accomplishing a lot during his first term in office. He had already passed the Dream Act, which gave undocumented young immigrants a path to legal U.S. residency. He still wished that he had Olivia by his side but he was trying hard to live up to her expectations. No, scratch that, he wanted to **exceed** her expectations. He wanted to be the man that she had voted for.

* * *

Olivia reached into her purse and pulled out the elegant Hermes silk scarf and wrapped it carefully around her head. Although she wasn't Muslim, she knew that the custom in Pakistan was for women to dress conservatively, and that meant covered arms, legs and head.

Olivia, Stephen and Huck sailed through customs and their driver was waiting for them when they left the baggage claim area. He quickly loaded their luggage into the trunk of the car. It was early afternoon and traffic was what one would expect for a bustling metropolis. Islamabad, however, was surprisingly green and suburban looking, and Olivia took a moment to enjoy the view that passed quickly by her window as the car sped to their hotel.

Very early the following morning, the trio checked out of the hotel and met a different driver who had a van. It was going to be a long journey ahead of them to arrive at the school located in a remote area several hundred miles north of the city, but Olivia, Stephen and Huck were prepared for it. They left Islamabad under cover of darkness and eventually watched the sun rise across the horizon as they traveled up Karakoram Highway.

Their driver, Mohammed, was a real character. He was a huge fan of Rocky movies and made them laugh with his awful Sylvester Stallone impression. His English was fluent and he obviously enjoyed talking because he kept asking Stephen, Olivia and Huck a lot of questions about America. It all seemed to be quite innocent, so Olivia and Stephen were happy to pass the time in this manner, but Huck was his usual quiet, socially awkward self and didn't say anything.

When Olivia asked Mohammed about himself he said he was from Islamabad, born and raised, and that he earned a living driving Westerners around the country. However, when Stephen asked him about the girl's school they were going to visit, Mohammed didn't seem to know much about it.

They had been on the road about three hours when Mohammed's cell phone rang. He answered it and began speaking in Pashto, the national language of Afghanistan and some tribal areas in Pakistan. Huck raised an eyebrow and shot Olivia a look. Huck didn't speak Pashto but he recognized the language. Olivia could read Huck without him having to say a word. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notepad. She handed it to Huck along with a pen.

Huck quickly scribbled: _"something not right."_

Underneath Olivia wrote: _**"?"**_

Then Huck wrote: _"we go back to airport. leave."_ Olivia's eyebrows shot up.

In that moment, she happened to catch Mohammed looking at them in the rear view mirror. When he realized that Olivia saw him looking at them, he quickly averted his gaze back to the highway. The group continued to drive on in silence. Stephen, who had been looking out the window, was oblivious to the note exchange between Huck and Olivia, but Olivia knew she needed to find some way to signal to Stephen that there had been a change in plans.

"Mohammed, would it be possible for us to stop somewhere to get something to eat? I need to use a bathroom," Olivia asked politely.

"Yes, we will stop for lunch soon," came the reply. A few minutes later, Mohammed made a call on his phone that lasted only a few seconds. "My wife. She likes to hear from me when I'm working," he said, by way of explanation.

That was the shortest conversation ever. Olivia shot Huck a questioning look and Huck quickly nodded.

About a half hour later they finally stopped at a roadside restaurant along the highway. Actually, it wasn't really a restaurant but more like a roadside food stand with a small shack where a column of steam and smoke was coming out. Somebody was cooking inside. Outside were a couple of plastic tables and old rickety chairs set up in a sort of crude approximation of an outdoor café. It was clear there were no conventional restroom facilities and that if Olivia were going to use the "facilities" they would be primitive.

The trio sat down at one of the plastic tables. Mohammed asked them what they wanted to eat and Olivia and Stephen said they'd just take whatever sodas the food shack had. When Mohammed walked away to get the drinks, Olivia turned to Huck and said, "What the heck is going on?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at both Olivia and Huck as if to say, "what are you two talking about?"

Huck, in a very calm but fast voice replied, "Weird vibe from the driver. Said he was born and raised in Islamabad but he speaks Pashto, language spoken in tribal areas of Pakistan which have served as a training area and operational base for militants who have been wanting to attack the U.S. and other countries. Just doesn't feel right. Don't think he is who he says he is. Security situation here is not good, especially for people like us. Americans."

"So, what do we do? We're in the middle of nowhere. How on earth are we going to ditch this driver and hitch a ride back to Islamabad?" Olivia asked.

"You have money on you, don't you?" Huck asked. "Pay the driver $100 to leave us here. Take our chances on hitching a ride back to the city."

"Huck, maybe he really was just speaking to his wife and she's from Afghanistan or he has family there," Olivia said, trying to fix a situation that wasn't fixable.

"Olivia, we're in a country that is hostile to U.S. citizens. You can never be too safe here," Huck replied.

"But Huck, are you 100% sure? I feel like we've come too far to turn back now," Olivia said.

"Olivia, you trust me, right? Have I **_ever_** steered you wrong?"

And with that, Olivia knew she had to listen to what Huck's gut was saying.

By this time, Mohammed returned to their table with three bottles of Coca-Cola. They were warm, but the trio accepted them without complaint. Mohammed sat down to join them but instead of drinking a soda, he pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag on it. As his lungs exhaled the smoke, Mohammed put the lighter and the keys to the van on the table. He leaned back in the rickety plastic chair and enjoyed his smoke.

They had been sitting there less than 10 minutes when a vehicle pulled up in a cloud of dust. It was an old, beat-up Toyota Corolla and when the car rolled to a stop, three women dressed in cerulean blue burkhas came tumbling out. _"How very odd,"_ Olivia thought to herself, _"three Muslim women in burkhas traveling without men and driving a car."_

She looked at Huck. Huck's eyes gave her the signal that **they needed to leave RIGHT NOW**. In one swift, ninja-like move, Huck smashed the Coke bottle down on Mohammed's hand. The thick glass shattered into multiple shards and the jagged edge of one large piece impaled Mohammed's hand. He screamed in agony. Huck then grabbed the van keys, jumped up and yelled at Stephen and Olivia: _**"RUN!"**_

Huck had gotten a bit of a head start and Olivia was right behind him, but Stephen hadn't picked up on the signal and was caught flatfooted. When he saw Olivia and Huck running, he got up to run after them, but Mohammed, whose hand was bleeding profusely, chased after Stephen, grabbed him by the collar and threw him down on the gravel road. There was a flurry of dialogue between Mohammed and two of the women in burkhas who were speaking in a language that Stephen did not understand. To Stephen's ears their voices were just a jumble of noise, not a coherent language.

Huck hopped into the front seat of the van and Olivia was climbing in on the passenger side when she turned back to look for Stephen. She saw Mohammed pull Stephen down by the collar and she screamed, **"STEPHEN!"**

"Olivia, let's go! We've got to get out of here. NOW!" Huck yelled, jamming the key into the ignition.

"Huck, NO! We can't leave Stephen here," Olivia said, sliding out of the van and running toward Stephen.

_**"O-LI-VIAAA!"**_ Huck screamed. He gunned the engine and was about to turn the van around to drive toward Stephen's attackers when a hand from outside reached up, opened the van door and dragged Huck out of the front seat and threw him to the ground. Huck struggled to get back up but then he was knocked in the head with a rock and fell to the ground like a fallen oak tree.

Olivia was running back toward Stephen, who was pinned to the ground by Mohammed. Without warning, one of the women in a burkha pulled out a gun from somewhere underneath her sleeve and shot Mohammed at point blank range in the head. He fell to the ground, dead.

Stephen jumped to his feet but the woman threw a hood over Stephen's head and then quickly tied a rope around his neck to hold the hood in place. Olivia, who was still several feet away from Stephen, stopped dead in her tracks and looked on in horror as the other woman wearing a burkha lifted Stephen up as though he weighed nothing and slung him over her shoulder like he was a 30-lb. sack of chicken feed.

"Oh. My. God," Olivia whispered under her breath. "Those aren't women. _Those are men!"_ And she turned to run. But before she could put any distance between her and the attackers, her view went black. Another one of the burka-clad attackers, the one who had assaulted Huck, sneaked up behind Olivia and threw a hood over her head. Olivia heard the side door of the van slide open and then she and Stephen were carelessly tossed her into the back of the vehicle as though they were bags of garbage.

Through the open window up front, Olivia heard the angry voices of her attackers. They were all male voices. She couldn't understand them, of course, but then she heard the jangle of car keys. They must've been searching for the keys on Huck's body. _**HUCK!**_ Olivia silently screamed. "_Oh God, please, Huck, please be alive. Please, be alive, please be alive," _she chanted under her breath.

And then the van door slid shut. The sound was like the door to a tomb closing.

* * *

**_Author's Note: OK, that's all folks! Consider this chapter the equivalent of a mid-season hiatus. _**_I'm going on vacation and although I'll be taking my laptop with me, I'm not sure I'm going to have reliable internet service where I'm going. So_**_ the next chapter update probably won't occur until after July 4th _**_when I come home_**_. Please subscribe to this story _**_so you can get an email alert the minute I post the next chapter._

**_Thanks for reading and, as always, thanks for the positive vibes and reviews and feedback._**

**_Later, gators,_**

**_Neo_**


	11. The Stages of Captivity

**Chapter 11: The Stages of Captivity**

**Stage 1: DENIAL**

The van carrying Olivia and Stephen sped along the highway, destination unknown. Olivia's brain was reeling. Huck was possibly dead and she and Stephen were now being held hostage in a strange land. This can't be happening. No, this isn't happening, she thought.

"Stephen," she whispered.

"Olivia," he replied. "Are you OK?"

"Stephen, I'm so sorry…"

"_Sssh. _Don't say another word," Stephen replied. "We don't know who these men are or what they want."

"They are going to kill us," Olivia said.

"No, they definitely want us alive. They killed one of their own just to get to us" Stephen said, referring to the earlier scene where the kidnappers shot their driver Muhammad. "Olivia, don't say another…."

In that moment, both Olivia and Stephen could smell a sticky, sweaty odor. One of the kidnappers had climbed over from the passenger seat into the back area of the van where Olivia and Stephen were slumped against the vehicle's walls.

**Stage 2: ANGER**

"No shoot, no shoot," said the male voice, in heavily accented broken English. Neither Olivia nor Stephen could see the face of their kidnapper because their heads were still covered with coarse burlap sacks. But Olivia could sense that the man behind the voice was coming closer toward her because the smell, or rather his stench, was becoming stronger.

Then she felt a rough hand groping at her chest. Olivia screamed. "Don't touch me! Get the fuck off me you fucking pig!" she screamed.

Stephen called out, "Leave her alone! You touch her and I'll kill you!"

The sweaty, stinky man paid neither one of them any mind. It was clear he didn't understand English. He continued to paw Olivia's body.

Olivia squirmed and continued to yell. She began kicking her legs out in wild directions hoping to eventually make contact. The sweaty, stinky man began to laugh but continued to touch her body through her clothes.

From the front of the van, from the driver's side, came a shout: **_"NABIL!"_**

The speaker's tone was angry and loud but he was speaking in that foreign language that neither Olivia nor Stephen understand. The groping stopped.

**Stage 3: BARGAINING**

After what seemed like a couple of hours, the van finally pulled to a stop. The side door slid open and the kidnappers dragged Olivia and Stephen out of the back. With the hoods still over their heads, they were escorted inside a crude, mud house and then put in a small room that was surprisingly cool, considering the rocky, desert like landscape surrounding the house. But the smell inside the house was dank and moldy.

One of the kidnappers took off Olivia's hood. After having her face covered for several hours, it felt good to feel the moist air on her face even though it smelled bad. She inhaled deeply and tilted her head up to look at her captor. "Please, can I have some water?"

The man looked down at her with no indication that he had understood what she had just said. "Please, I'm thirsty. Can I have some water, please" she said again.

The man turned to Stephen and was about to take off his hood when he seemed to reconsider and instead turned and left the room.

Olivia jumped up and jiggled the door handle. It was bolted from the outside. She banged on the door. "PLEASE, WE NEED WATER!"

After a few minutes of kicking and banging on the door, a different man entered the room. He looked different from the other men. Although he physically looked like he was from the region, there was something about his demeanor that seemed Western. Olivia suspected that he spoke English. "Please, do you have water? My friend and I, we need water. We're very thirsty," she said.

The man just looked at her. Olivia decided to take a gamble..."I know that you speak English. Who are you? Why am I here? What do you want?"

The man walked around Olivia in a circle as though he were admiring a museum piece.

"I'm sure this is all some huge mistake. If you're hoping to get a huge ransom for my friend and I, I'm sorry, but our families don't have any money," Olivia said. "Please, let us go. We're worthless to you."

**_"Worthless?"_ **said the man finally speaking, stopping in his circular tracks. "There couldn't be anything further from the truth."

**STAGE 4: DEPRESSION**

And before Olivia could say another word, the man placed a gag in her mouth and forced her to sit down on the dirt floor. He took off her hiking boots, removed the shoelaces and then used the laces to bind her wrists together. He then turned to Stephen, who had been sitting silently in the corner, and repeated the same steps. Olivia and Stephen looked helplessly at one another, unable to speak.

**STAGE 5: ACCEPTANCE**

Day 1 in captivity was now over.


	12. All War is Deception

**Hello all! Many thanks, as always, for the reviews and comments. I'm sitting in an airport with free wi-fi (yay!), so I'm taking this opportunity to update this story before I board my flight. **

**Later, gladiators! :)  
**

**- Neo  
**

**Chapter 12: All War is Deception**

Farheed Davi was fast asleep when the phone rang.

_ring, ring_

"Britney, can you get that?" Davi murmured into his pillow.

_ring, ring_

When there was no response, he stretched out his arm and patted the other side of the bed. It was empty. The high-priced call girl he had hired for the evening had left without saying good-bye. Davi sat up in bed, turned on the lamp and looked at the nightstand. His money clip containing $500 was gone. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath.

_ring, ring. ring, ring. _

Davi looked at the phone. It was 2 o'clock in the morning in Washington, D.C. Who was calling him at this hour?

The phone stopped ringing. _"Good. Didn't want to talk to you anyway,"_ Davi thought to himself.

He rolled out of bed and picked up his bathrobe, which had dropped to the floor when Britney went to work on him earlier. He smirked at the lewd memory of the beautiful, blonde haired blue-eyed All-American cheerleader type kneeling down and servicing him. _These American girls, they're all such whores, willing to spread their legs for any man with money_, he thought. He was walking to the bathroom when the phone trilled again.

_ring, ring_

Davi turned around and picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"We got the girl and her friend," said a deep, husky voice at the other end of the line.

"What?" Davi said, surprised.

"I said, we made the grab. We got the girl, Olivia Pope and…"

"WHAT? You idiot! You had precise instructions to make the grab AFTER her visit to the Pakistani girl's academy," Davi yelled into the phone, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"I know, but something came up and my men had to…improvise," said the deep voice.

"Improvise? IMPROVISE?" Davi hissed. "My government isn't paying your crew of misfits to improvise! What the hell happened?"

"Not exactly sure. We think our driver did or said something that tipped off the girl and her friends."

"I don't believe this. I can't believe what I'm hearing," Davi said, angrily. "Please tell me that you at least had the good sense to put a bullet in that man's brain."

"Yeah, we did kill the driver, but my crew left that weird CIA guy behind on the side of the highway."

"What are you saying?" Davi said, worried. "Are you saying that Huck is still alive?"

"Is that what his name was?" came the reply. "I don't know whether he's alive or not. My men left him for dead on the side of the highway."

"How stupid can you be?" Davi yelled, exasperated. "That man is a former black ops assassin for the CIA. You better hope that he's dead because the only way he's not coming after you is if he is six feet under."

"Come after me? _**Me?**_" said the husky voice, laughing. "You must be joking. All roads lead back to YOU, my friend. I've made sure of that. So don't you EVER forget it."

"Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?" Davi yelled into the phone receiver.

"No, just a reminder, that you and your country have way more to lose than I do," said the husky voice in a low voice laced with menace. "After all, people expect the worst from me. I'm a rogue freelance terrorist who works for the highest bidder, while you, on the other hand…well, let's just say that the Americans would never forgive your country if the truth ever came out."

Davi was silent. He knew that what the man on the other end was saying was true. The trap that he had laid out for Olivia Pope had ensnared her, and although its initial stage had not gone according to plan, he couldn't pull the plug now.

"You kidnapping the woman a week ahead of our previously agreed to schedule is going to make my life difficult. This plan is going to be harder to pull off," Davi said. "There were certain things that I needed to happen before the kidnapping in order to make sure this plan succeeds."

"Well, that's not my problem now is it?" was the response. "Look, if it weren't for my men, this entire operation would've been blown to pieces and shut down today by that Huck character. You've got me to thank that your precious plan wasn't completely derailed."

Davi slammed down the phone in frustration. Absentmindedly, he ran a hand through his thinning, greasy hair. The kidnapping of Olivia Pope had happened sooner than he had requested, but now that the deed was done, he would have to adapt and readjust the plan accordingly. First thing tomorrow morning he would confirm that the bank wire transfer had been made.

He went to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. This plan to bring down the President of the United States could not fail. It would not fail. He stood up, looked into the mirror at his reflection and smiled.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This Davi character is serious bad news. Thanks to this phone conversation we've just listened in on, we now know that Davi isn't just some individual trying to take down the POTUS but he's actually got the backing of some foreign government to undermine Fitz. _Hmmm,_ which country do you think that could be? And what's this about a money wire transfer? Conspiracy theorists, unite! :) Post your guesses in the review section.

_**Until next time...**_


	13. Under Lock & Key

**Author's Note:** Thanks to all for the reviews and guesses about Davi the Devil. One of you guys correctly guessed who is bankrolling this nefarious operation but I'm not ready to reveal which country it is yet. Special shout out to ChasingPavements7 whose comments/reviews are funny, entertaining, brilliant recaps of each chapter. I get a kick out of reading your comments on this entire forum.

P.S. I'm suffering a mild case of writer's block with the chapter(s) related to Huck surviving the highway ambush and Fitz finding out Olivia has been kidnapped, so in this chapter I kind of avoid both issues to buy myself some time. :)

* * *

**Chapter 13: Under Lock & Key**

_A year earlier_

It was a week after the election and President-elect Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III had retired to his ranch in Santa Barbara, Calif. for a little R&R (rest and relaxation). The euphoria of election night had worn off and had been replaced by a simmering excitement and anticipation of what was to come in the months ahead with the move to Washington, D.C. and the installation of a new Republican administration.

A few days after his arrival in Santa Barbara several key members of Fitz's transition team, including Cyrus and Olivia, joined him at the ranch so they could start to plot out what his administration would look like. Being at the ranch afforded the team with a level of privacy that they couldn't have gotten if they had holed up in a hotel somewhere. Mellie and the kids had gone to spend time with her parents.

It was mid-afternoon on a Friday when Fitz called it a day and told his team that they could take the rest of the afternoon off. Most of the team said they were going to go into town for dinner and drinks but Cyrus and Olivia said they wanted to stay at the ranch and keep Fitz company. Then Cyrus got a call from James who had flown in to surprise him, and Cyrus left to go meet his husband at the airport.

It was just Fitz and Olivia, alone at the ranch. Fitz was glad because he and Olivia hadn't really been alone together since election night and there was so much he wanted to tell her that he hadn't yet had a chance to say.

Fitz went to tell the housekeeper that there would only be two people for dinner that night. As he was walking back from the kitchen and passed the french doors that led out to the backyard, he saw Olivia walking down toward the huge chestnut tree that punctuated the land behind the ranch. Fitz smiled because Olivia had previously remarked that that was her favorite spot at the ranch. He would join her shortly, but first there was something he had to do. He went to his study, opened the safe and took out what was inside and put it in his shirt pocket.

When Fitz came outside, Olivia was sitting idly on the swing attached to the chestnut tree. Her back was to him but he could see that she had changed out of her business casual attire into something more relaxed. She was wearing a sleeveless cotton shirt with a flouncy skirt, and she was barefoot. She dug her toes into the sandy soil to give herself a gentle push.

Fitz smiled as he approached her. Sitting there on the swing in the late day sun with the smell of lavender and honeysuckle in the air, Olivia was all sweetness and light. There was an innocence about her in that moment that Fitz found utterly captivating. _God, she's so beautiful,_ he thought. He stopped, wanting to sear this image of her in his memory.

Olivia, sensing his presence, turned around in the swing.

"Mr. President! You can't sneak up on a girl like that!" she said laughing.

Fitz walked that walk of his, with a little bit of swagger, and stood right in front of her. He tilted his head to the side and said, "You know, this is the exact spot where I had my first kiss."

"Who was the lucky girl?" Olivia asked.

"Her name was Becca Finley. We were about 12 or 13 years old. Her dad was good friends with my dad. One day Roger, my best friend at the time, dared me to kiss Becca. I think he liked her more than I did."

"So, it wasn't love at first sight, then?" Olivia asked, teasing, slowly rocking back and forth in the swing.

"No, definitely not. Becca was a stuck-up brat," Fitz said, as he walked behind Liv to give the swing a gentle push. "Most definitely not love. Not at all."

Olivia turned to him, smiling, "so, when was the first time you fell in love?" Her face was bright and her eyes were dancing.

Fitz looked down at her and said in a serious tone, "Do you want the truth?" Olivia nodded yes.

Fitz reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small box in robin's eggs blue tied with a white bow. The name _TIFFANY & CO._ was embossed across it. Olivia's heart leapt into her throat. She hopped off the swing.

"Oh my god, Fitz, you shouldn't have…." she started to say.

"Relax, it's not what you think," Fitz said laughing.

Olivia slid the bow off and opened the box. Inside was a Tiffany key pendant in 18K rose gold with lavender amethysts and a round brilliant diamond at the center. It was tastefully understated in its elegance.

"It's beautiful," she said, taking the pendant out of the box and marveling at it. She started to put it on when Fitz reached out to help her. Olivia turned around so that he could easily clasp the pretty pendant around her delicate neck. Fitz then turned her around so that she was facing him once again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and said, "A very wise person once told me that a soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys and keys to fit our locks. Olivia, for me, you are that person. You are my key. You have my heart."

Olivia looked up at Fitz. Her eyes were blinking rapidly and she felt herself tearing up. She was so happy, she could hardly process it, but she didn't want Fitz to know just how much his gesture had touched her heart. She felt exactly the same way about him, but she didn't want him to know how completely, entirely, utterly head over heels she was for him. She had to do something to break the seriousness of the moment.

"Pres. Grant, you are such a dork," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Fitz gave Olivia a look of mock surprise and slapped her playfully on the behind. "You know, I have a mind to put you over my knee and give you a good spanking right about now…"

Olivia shrieked and then took off running. Fitz laughed and took off after her. He caught her and swept her up in his arms and said, "not so fast" before setting her feet back down on the ground.

Olivia giggled like a schoolgirl and looked up at him. His beautiful grey eyes were scanning the features of her face. Then their eyes met. The playful, mischievous look that had been in his eyes moments before had been replaced by one of pure longing and desire. The look of love in Fitz's eyes was unmistakeable and true.

"Lock and key," he said, softly, before passionately kissing her. Then he gently picked her up and carried her back up to the house. Olivia leaned her head against his broad firm chest and inhaled deeply his warm, wonderful, masculine scent. She then contentedly closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel enveloped and protected by his love.

* * *

_**Present day, somewhere in the hills of Pakistan**_

"What's this?"

Olivia's interrogator touched the gold pendant that she was wearing but had tucked inside her shirt. He pulled it out of her shirt.

Olivia stared straight ahead but flinched slightly when the man's hand momentarily grazed her skin.

"It's a key. But a key to what?" the interrogator asked.

Olivia looked up at him, hatred filling her eyes. "None of your damn business," she spat out.

The man ripped the necklace from her neck and held the pendant up to the overhead light. A few feet away a tiny red light was blinking. A video camera was recording the entire proceeding.

* * *

_**Author's note: **If this chapter feels unfinished it's because it is. I'm going to stop this chapter here but this scene with Liv and the interrogator is important because it will begin to reveal the kidnappers' reason for taking Olivia. I plan to narrate the remainder of this scene in a different chapter from Fitz's point of view when he sees the video._

_**Writing the "Fitz finds out Olivia is kidnapped" chapter is kind of hard for me to write. **It's not flowing like the other chapters.** I think it's because I want to convey Fitz's anger in a way that feels realistic and authentic to the character and I'm finding that to be a challenge. **Be patient with me._

_**Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. **_

_**Ciao!**_


	14. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Author's note:** Here's the latest installment. I wish I could write another tender love scene between Liv and Fitz in this chapter, but we've got to keep the main story moving along. No Olivia and minimal Fitz in this chapter as we get more background info. But we finally find out what happened to Huck after the highway ambush.

I threw in some British English words/slang in this chapter. Here's a brief glossary:

**MI6 is the U.K.'s spy agency. (James Bond's employer.) In other words, the British counterpart of America's C.I.A.**

**A "spook" in England means "spy."**

**A "station chief" is the head guy in charge of a spy operation in a foreign country**

**"bloody hell" = **A multi-purpose exclamation of surprise that would be equivalent to "oh my god" or "what the hell" in American English.

**"wanker" = **asshole, jerk

**"old sod" = **S.O.B. or bastard

**"royal cock up"** = huge mistake

**Other terms mentioned:**

**TSA: **Transportation Security Administration

**jihad: **Means "struggle" in Arabic but has come to mean Muslim guerrilla warfare in modern times.

**mujahedeen**: Literally means "people who struggle" but has come to mean Muslim guerrilla fighters in today's world.

**Taliban: **An ultra conservative radical Islamist movement of Pashtun tribesmen. Remember that Pashto was the language that Mohammed, the driver, was speaking on the phone when he was transporting Olivia, Stephen and Huck**. **The Taliban rule large parts of Afghanistan and have gained diplomatic recognition from three countries: Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and the United Emirates. (**SPOILER ALERT:** That prior sentence just whittled down the list of possible countries that could be behind this plot to kidnap Olivia and bring down the POTUS.)

_**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS and HAPPY READING! :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

Huck was exhausted. It had taken him two days to get back to Islamabad after Olivia and Stephen had been kidnapped. Then another four days of stowing away in the back of trucks and sneaking on to buses to travel the 800 miles south to Karachi where he once had contacts from his former days in the C.I.A.

It had been five years since Huck had fallen off the grid, so to speak. There was no way for him to know now whether or not any of his former intelligence agency contacts were still in place.

In Karachi there was a nondescript café located across from the city's traditional bazaar that had been a popular meeting spot for spooks. If any of Huck's former contacts were still living in Karachi, they'd eventually show up there.

It took three days but finally, on the third day, Huck saw the unmistakable straw fedora of Toby Marwick. It was late afternoon and Toby looked around before entering the café and taking a seat in the front where he had a view of the street. It was late afternoon and Toby was there to have a proper English tea. He placed his order and then whipped out a newspaper and began reading. Huck, who was across the street in the bazaar, watched the man intently.

After a few minutes, Toby got up and went to the back of the café. Huck couldn't see what he was doing because his line of vision was blocked. When Toby didn't return to the table after a few minutes, Huck became concerned.

Then Huck felt the tip of a knife jabbing into his side.

"Make one false move and I'll gut you right where you stand," said the voice in a low, menacing whisper.

Huck turned his head slowly to look at the man holding a knife to his kidneys. "Toby?"

"DIEGO? Bloody hell!" exclaimed the Brit, calling Huck by his real name. He gave Huck a bear hug. "You old sod, you! What's it's been? Five years? Where the hell have you been?"

"It's a long story," Huck said. "Look, I need your help. Are you still in the Queen's Service?" he said, referring to the British Secret Intelligence Service, better known as MI6.

"Yes, I'm now Karachi station chief," said Toby, proudly.

"Wow, times must be hard. You mean they couldn't have found anyone else more qualified?" Huck said with a straight face. Toby didn't know whether he was kidding or not, so he playfully punched Huck in the arm and said, "Diego, you were always a bit of a wanker."

"So, what brings you to Karachi?" Toby asked, seriously. "There are rumors that you Americans are planning some new drone strikes here in Pakistan. You must know what a royal cock up that would be if you Americans did that now with everything that is happening in the region."

"No, I know nothing at all about that," Huck said impatiently. "Look, Toby, is there someplace we can talk privately? It's a matter of life and death."

* * *

_The same day in Washington, D.C._

Fitz was eating breakfast and scrolling through the news headlines on his iPad when one jumped out at him: _**"Taliban block vaccinations in Pakistan"**_

_A Pakistani Taliban commander has banned polio vaccinations in North Waziristan, in the tribal belt, days before 161,000 children were to be inoculated. He linked the ban to American drone strikes and fears that the C.I.A. could use the polio campaign as cover for espionage, much as it did with Shakil Afridi, the Pakistani doctor who helped track Osama bin Laden. _

_The commander, Hafiz Gul Bahadur, said that the vaccinations would be banned until the Central Intelligence Agency stopped its drone campaign. _

"Son of a bitch," Fitz hissed under his breath. He continued reading:

_"Mr. Bahadur said the decision had been taken by the shura-e-mujahedeen, a council that unites the myriad jihadi factions in the area, including Taliban, Qaeda and Punjabi extremists. _

_The announcement, made over the weekend, is a blow to polio vaccination efforts in Pakistan, one of just three countries where the disease is still endemic…"_

"Hal, can you come in here, please?" Fitz called for the Secret Service agent who was stationed outside the dining room door. "Hal, is the Chief of Staff in yet? Would you please tell him to report to my office in 15 minutes, please? Thank you."

Fitz quickly drained his glass of orange juice, wiped his mouth, stood up and put on his jacket and headed down to the Oval Office. It was the beginning of what was to be a very long day.

* * *

_**20 minutes later**_

"Cyrus, this situation in Pakistan looks like it is about to spiral out of our control. Did you see this article in the New York Times today?" Fitz said, tapping on his iPad to show Cyrus the story.

"Well, Mr. President, we knew that there was the possibility for this sort of fallout if we went ahead with the drone strikes," Cyrus said.

"I know," Fitz replied, "But I hate the fact that the Taliban is using U.S. media to paint our government as the bad guy when they are the real villains."

"Well, we can discuss a new plan of attack with Cam and Mac during our daily security briefing," Cyrus said, referring to CIA Director Cameron Reynolds and National Security Advisor Ian MacMillan.

"And Cyrus, we also need a new media strategy to get a handle on this. There's no way in hell I'm going to allow a couple of goat herding terrorists in the hills of Pakistan make the U.S. government look stupid in our country's leading news outlets. Get Olivia to come to the White House to discuss this," Fitz said as he continued to scroll through the NYTimes story on his iPad.

"Excuse me, sir?" Cyrus said, surprised. "I really don't think it would be appropriate…"

Fitz interrupted Cyrus while he was in mid-sentence.

"Cyrus, please, just once can you do what I ask without giving me a lecture on appropriateness?" Fitz said. "Get Olivia over here so I can talk to her about this. She's great at seeing all the angles and nuances in a crisis that other people can't. We need her on this."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. He turned on his heel and left the Oval Office.

* * *

_**Four hours later**_

At lunchtime, Cyrus headed over to Olivia's office. When he entered the building, the front desk security guy recognized him and told him that Pope & Associates was closed.

"Since when?" Cyrus asked.

"They closed for vacation about a little over a week ago," the security guard responded.

"Vacation?" Cyrus asked, surprised. "Are you sure? Did they say where they were going?

"No, I'm not sure, but nobody who works there has been in this building for over a week, so I assumed that they shut down for vacation."

Cyrus slowly walked out of the building. He had known Olivia Pope for over 10 years, and in that time he had never known her to take more than a long weekend off for personal time. The idea of Olivia Pope taking more than a week off for "vacation" was unprecedented. He knew something wasn't right. Cyrus took out his cell phone and called his assistant. "Get me Eric Sherwood over at Homeland Security, now."

_Two minutes later…_

"Hi, Eric, Cyrus Beane here. How are you? Good. Listen, I need a favor from you. Can you have one of your guys over at the TSA check international flight manifests from the last 10 days and let me know if the name Olivia Pope pops up anywhere? Thanks!" Cyrus hung up.

A half-hour later Cyrus had his answer. Olivia Pope, Stephen Finch and Huck were all on the same British Airways flight that left Washington Dulles International Airport 10 days earlier. The trio had flown to London Heathrow and then took a connecting flight to Islamabad, Pakistan. "Pakistan?" Cyrus thought, puzzled. "What the heck is Olivia doing in Pakistan?"

Cyrus was still mulling over this information when a Google news alert popped up on his computer screen.

**"**_Former Grant administration official rumored to have Taliban terrorist ties,"_ read the headline.

"What the hell…?" Cyrus mumbled under this breath clicking the link that led to Wonkette, the D.C. gossip blog.

_"Today's blind item is a juicy one: A little birdie has told me that someone with close ties to the Grant administration is actually a Taliban sympathizer! Details are sketchy but we're working our source to get more dirt. We had to post this little tidbit now because it was just too juicy._

_What's a Republican doing in bed with the Taliban? Enquiring minds want to know! The Grant administration is going to go nuclear when the truth comes out. Who do you think it could be? Post your wild guesses in the comments section below."_

Oh. My. God, Cyrus thought. It couldn't be, could it? They're talking about Olivia! He could feel his blood pressure rise. This was bad. Real bad. Despite the fact that Wonkette was a D.C. gossip blog, it was actually very well read by journalists in the mainstream media. If a story like this gained any traction, it would soon be all over the news everywhere.

Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about what to do next, when his email alert chimed. Incoming message.

The sender's name was "John Smith," which Cyrus knew right away was bogus but he opened the email anyway. Inside was a link to a private Flickr account. Cyrus' jaw dropped to the floor when he saw what was inside.

On the page was a photo slideshow of Olivia, Stephen and Huck at the airport in Pakistan getting into a car. Olivia was wearing a headscarf like a Muslim woman. Then there was a photo of Olivia, Huck and Stephen sitting with an unknown Pakistani man at an outdoor table along a highway. Then another photo of Olivia standing next to a man dressed in traditional Pakistani tribal attire. And then a final photo of her in what appeared to be a girl's school in Pakistan.

Cyrus opened the other attachment in the same email. Inside were Olivia's bank statements showing how much money she had been hemorrhaging in recent months. Then there was a receipt for a $250,000 money wire transfer deposited to Olivia's primary checking account on the same day that she had left the United States.

Cyrus was still trying to process everything he had learned in the previous 20 minutes when his email beeped again. Another message from "John Smith." He opened the email. Inside was a link to a YouTube video. Cyrus was afraid to look but he knew he had to. He clicked on the link and when the video started to play, a chill went down his spine. A bad day had just gotten worse.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_ Huck's real name is Diego! Can you believe it? He looks like a Diego, doesn't he? Do you think Huck's British spy friend Toby will help him out or not? **

**Poor Cyrus, the weight of this news is completely on his shoulders. How will he break the news to Fitz?**

**And Fitz, still in the dark about the fate of his Livi. But he's about to find out in the next chapter. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. The Shadow of Death

_**Author's Note: Fasten your seatbelts, gladiators. This is going to be a bumpy ride! **_

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Shadow of Death**

First there was no sound. Then came the voice of a man speaking a foreign language. It sounded like he was counting, as though he was doing a sound check, a version of _"testing 1,2, testing 1,2."_

When the camera finally came into focus, it captured an unsettling scene. Seated on chairs with their hands tied behind their backs were Olivia and Stephen. A man, obviously one of their Taliban captors, was circling them like a shark. Olivia leaned forward and the glint of something around her neck captured the attention of her captor.

_"What's this? A key? A key to what?"_ he said, ripping the gold key pendant from around Olivia's neck.

"None of your damn business," Olivia spat out.

_"Why did you come to Pakistan? Are you an American spy?"_

"No."

_"Are you an agent of the CIA?"_

"No."

_"Why did you come to Pakistan? Who do you work for? Who sent you here?"_

"I told you before. We came here to visit a girl's academy. We came here to help."

_"Help? What sort of help could you give a Pakistani girl? Are you Muslim?"_

"No."

_"So, why would you want to help?"_

"Cy, what the hell is this?" Fitz asked confused. Moments before Cyrus had summoned Fitz, CIA Director Cameron Reynolds and National Security Advisor Ian MacMillan to the White House Situation Room.

"Sir, I received a link to this video today. We're not sure who sent it or where it came from," Cyrus replied.

"Is this some sort of twisted, sick joke? Olivia is here in Washington," Fitz said. "Cyrus, I told you this morning to bring Olivia to the White House. Where is she?"

"Sir, please, you need to see this video. Olivia is not here. She's in Pakistan."

"Cy, stop talking nonsense. I know that Olivia is here in D.C. so if you won't bring her to the White House, I'll get someone who will." Fitz, who was standing, reached across the conference room table and started to punch in a code on the phone. Cyrus leaned over, placed his hand on top of Fitz's and hung it up.

"Sir, you need to see this." Cy said quietly.

The video continued to play on the large flat screen monitor at the front of the room.

_"Are you an American spy?"_

"No."

_"We know that you and your friends were sent here to spy on us. You are an unmarried female who traveled to this country with two unmarried men. You are a whore. You are an infidel. The punishment for whores and infidels is death."_

The Taliban captor picked up a long sword and began wiping it down with a filthy towel. Another one of the captors came up behind Olivia and Stephen and abruptly tipped them out of their chairs and onto their knees. Their hands were still tied behind their backs. Stephen began to recite the 23rd Psalm from the Bible:

_"The Lord is my Shepherd,_

_I shall not want,_

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…."_

"Are you an American spy?"

"NO!" Olivia said defiantly.

The Taliban captor held the sword up to the camera and slowly tipped it back and forth, back and forth, so that the light bounced off the shiny blade. The glint of the steel blinked a sadistic wink at the camera. The Taliban man went and stood behind Stephen.

_"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_

_I will fear no evil, for thou art with me…_

___Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…"_

Olivia, who was still on her knees, turned her head slightly and saw the sword raised above Stephen's head. An unbridled panic consumed her body and a look of horror transformed her face. **_"No, no, no, NO,NO,NOOOO! I'll give you anything you want! I'll tell you anything you want!"_**

"You have one last chance. Why did you come to Pakistan? Are you an American spy?"

Olivia was shaking uncontrollably. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Stephen continued to recite the Bible:

_"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever…"_

And just as Olivia was about to lie and say "yes, I am a spy" in a vain attempt to save Stephen's life, the sword came down like a guillotine and sliced through his neck as though it were butter. Stephen's head dropped and rolled off to the side. Blood from his severed neck spurted everywhere and splattered one side of Olivia's face. She screamed in horror and then the video went dead.

An unearthly quiet filled the Situation Room. The color drained from the POTUS' face. In a low, hoarse voice, practically a whisper, he said, "I need the room," to no one in particular. Cam and Mac walked out in silence, but Cyrus stayed behind. "Mr. President, we need to…"

"Cyrus, that includes you. Leave. Now." Fitz said in an unexpectedly calm voice.

Cyrus left. As soon as the room was empty, Fitz's knees buckled underneath him and he collapsed into a chair. His mind went completely blank. It was as though someone had pressed pause on his cerebral cortex and he was unable to think. Then suddenly a wave of nausea overcame him and he puked his guts out into a nearby trashcan.

* * *

**Author's Note**: **_Stephen's dead. Olivia is now 100% completely alone and isolated. Fitz is in a state of shock. Can things get any worse? _**


	16. Man on Fire

**A/N: **Wow, that last chapter was BRUTAL! Stephen was a true friend to the very end. Poor Livvie. As many of you have pointed out, the guilt is going to be terrible. But it's so depressing. Not sure I'm going to go too deep into that in future chapters because I don't want to be a Debbie Downer.

To Dettylover, brilliant observation. Love it!

To A Shy Reader: How did Stephen know to start praying? He could see the writing on the wall, so to speak, when that sword appeared. Yikes!**  
**

******Thanks to everyone for all your comments and reviews. **

******This chapter is all about Fitz. Finally! We get to see his full reaction to the video of Olivia in captivity. **(P.S: Skip this chapter if four-letter swear words offend you. Just a head's up.)******  
**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Man on Fire**

"_If there was a God, I would spit in his face for subjecting me to this. If there was a Devil, I would sell my soul to make it end. If there was something Higher that controlled our f***ing fates, I would tell it to take my fate and shove it up its f***ing ass. Shove it hard and far, you motherf***er. Please end. Please end. Please end."_**_  
_**― James Frey, _A Million Little Pieces_

Every presidency has a defining moment, an event that becomes a dividing line between the before and after. How a president reacts in that moment of crisis is what defines his presidency and his legacy for generations to come. For Bill Clinton it was Monica Lewinsky. For George W. Bush it was 9/11. For Fitzgerald T. Grant III it would be the kidnapping of Olivia Pope.

The knot in Fitz's stomach clenched tighter. There had been only two other times in his life when he had felt this level of intense anxiety and dread. In 1980, when his mother was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor; then in 2001 when he was governor of California during the Sept. 11 attacks; and now today with the news of Olivia's kidnapping. The whole scenario was completely surreal. It made no sense. What was she doing in Pakistan?

He was having difficulty focusing. A cascade of emotions swirled and tumbled through his brain. Anger, sadness, revulsion, hopelessness, confusion and fear. The fear was the worst. It was all consuming, toxic and suffocating. He felt as though he was being strangled from within. His lungs constricted and he struggled to breathe. He felt like he might be losing consciousness. And in that moment the cosmos presented him with a previously unforeseen possibility his mind had never imagined – a world in which Olivia Pope no longer existed. Another wave of nausea hit him. The Leader of the Free World was scared shitless.

Outside the Situation Room, Cyrus, CIA Director Cameron Reynolds and National Security Advisor Ian MacMillan were waiting. Several minutes passed with still no sign of the POTUS and Cam and Mac wondered out loud if one of them should go inside and check on him. "No, give him another minute," said Cyrus.

Just when Cam and Mac had decided they could wait no longer and were about to enter, the POTUS came out of the Situation Room. His face was impassive, revealing no emotion. He blew past the three men and barked, "Oval Office. 5 minutes."

* * *

"Cyrus, tell us everything that you know," Fitz said, pacing the Oval Office like a chained tiger. His jacket and tie were off and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

Cyrus proceeded to tell what he had discovered related to Olivia going to Pakistan 10 days earlier, about her money woes and the bank transfer for $250,000, and about the blog item alluding to a Taliban sympathizer with a White House connection.

"You have a leak," CIA Director Cam Reynolds said matter-of-factly. "Mr. President someone in your administration is working against you. How else can you explain the fact that some gossip blog got wind of Olivia Pope's kidnapping before the White House did?"

Cyrus piped up, "I agree. And I believe that whoever is behind this their real target isn't Olivia Pope but you, Mr. President."

Cam and Mac exchanged worried glances. Cam was the first to speak.

"Olivia Pope left this administration more than six months ago. Her security clearance was cancelled. What on earth could she know about the president that someone would go to such lengths?" The CIA Director paused and looked directly at the President. "Sir, is there something you're not telling us?"

Fitz inhaled deeply and stopped pacing for a moment. He ignored the question.

"Cyrus, call an emergency meeting with the Joint Chiefs. We need to take military action against Pakistan," Fitz said.

"Whoa, hold on now, Mr. President," said Mac jumping to his feet. "Let's not make any hasty moves here. We still don't know who or what exactly we're up against. We can't declare war on a sovereign nation just because some radical extremists are holding a U.S. citizen hostage."

"Well, we need to do something! And we need to do something NOW!" Fitz said, raising his voice.

"Mr. President, you can't go off half-cocked like this!" exclaimed Mac genuinely worried by Fitz's almost manic behavior. "We cannot start World War III over some woman. I know she used to work for you but she is a civilian, a private citizen who willingly traveled to Pakistan for God knows what reason and got herself kidnapped. We don't even know if she's still alive."

When Fitz heard that he became unhinged. He lunged at Mac and grabbed him by his lapels and got in his face. "Olivia Pope is not "some woman" and she is **not **dead! Don't you _**ever**_ say that again," Fitz hissed. Cam jumped up and stepped between the two men.

"Mr. President! You need to calm down!" Cam yelled. Fitz backed off but threw Mac a look filled with daggers that would've killed the National Security Advisor on the spot, if that were possible.

Cyrus spoke up: "Let's take a 10-minute break so we can clear the air."

When Cam and Mac left, Cyrus said, "Mr. President, you've got to get your temper under control and keep it together. Cam is on our side, but Mac's loyalties are divided. He's loyal to Vice President Langston. Don't give him any ammunition that could be used against you."

Fitz glared at Cyrus. "God, you are a real piece of work. Is that all you can think about? This isn't the time for political strategizing. Did you not pay attention during that sick, twisted video? Olivia...our Olivia...MY OLIVIA is out there somewhere, cold, alone and frightened. She's being terrorized and tortured by a bunch of barbaric monsters and you want to talk to me about Sally Langston and politics? Cy, I've had it with you!" Fitz said angrily as he headed toward the door to leave the Oval Office.

Cyrus grabbed Fitz's forearm and said in a low voice: "Mr. President, you are hanging by a string right now. Someone is gunning for you and if you're not careful, you're going to make a fatal mistake that could not only get Olivia killed but damage this country for generations to come. I'm the only thing preventing you from falling into an abyss right now. I'm all you've got, so you better damn well believe that I'm on your side!"

Fitz angrily narrowed his eyes at Cyrus. He knew that Cyrus was speaking the truth, but he wasn't ready to admit it just yet. He exhaled and raked his left hand through his hair. "Get Cam and Mac back in here and let's get to work," Fitz said forcefully, walking over and taking a seat behind Resolute, the historic desk in the Oval Office.

The four men spent the next two hours hammering out an initial strategy. Whoever was behind this kidnapping was well funded, well organized and obviously capable of covering their tracks. Finding out who was responsible was going to take a level of stealth and cunning that would require a similar approach. This was a high stakes chess match with no margin for error.

The first thing Fitz wanted to do was to find Huck because he knew that Huck was the closest thing they had to a secret weapon. Huck traveled with Olivia and Stephen to Pakistan but he wasn't in the video. Was it possible that Huck had escaped? If so, where was he?

_If you prick us, do we not bleed?_

_If you tickle us, do we not laugh?_

_If you poison us, do we not die? _

**_And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?_**

_ – William Shakespeare_

* * *

_**To be continued... **_

_**(Thanks for reading and reviewing!)**  
_


	17. April in Paris

**A/N: Love all the reviews!** You guys motivate me to keep the story moving and keep the updates fresh. **THANK YOU!**

I have two other Scandal fan fic ideas percolating in my brain that are very different from this one, but I don't know if I've got the time/energy to develop them. We'll see. One is potentially controversial. Can you guess what it might be about?

Now back to this story...The last couple of chapters have been very intense, so let's dial the tension way down in this short chapter. **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 17: April in Paris**

The warmth of the sun woke Olivia up. She opened her eyes and squinted in the direction of the light source. It was so warm and inviting, like a hug. What time was it? She rolled over in the bed to find the clock and bumped into Fitz. He was fast asleep. She smiled drowsily.

There was no clock to be found but the warmth of the sun was gradually becoming more intense. It must've been around 8 a.m. Olivia knew she and Fitz would soon have to get out of bed and start the day.

Where were they? There was a huge window across from the bed and in it, framed like a picture postcard, was the Eiffel Tower. _Oh my God!,_ Olivia thought. _We're in Paris!_ She couldn't believe it. Paris was one of her favorite cities and the idea that she and Fitz were there together, in the City of Lights, made her feel so happy inside.

The warmth of the sun was becoming more intense. What time was it? Could it be almost noon? She racked her brain trying to remember what had transpired the night before. She couldn't remember. That was strange. Perhaps she and Fitz had had too much wine to drink the night before. In fact, she did feel a little bit like she had a hangover. Her head and limbs felt heavy and she lacked the energy and willpower to bring them to life. _Hmmmm_, Olivia quietly hummed. "Maybe Fitz and I should just spend the day in bed. Yes, that would be nice," Olivia thought, smiling to herself. Then in the evening, they could walk along the Seine and have dinner in one of those quaint little bistros in the 7th _arrondissement_ before coming back to their hotel to make love. _Hmmmm_, it sounded so perfect. Olivia smiled and rolled over to hug Fitz. He was still fast asleep and hadn't stirred a bit during Olivia's morning reverie.

Olivia heard a noise behind her. It sounded like the scraping of a chair against a concrete floor. She turned over. The warmth of the sun was becoming unbearable. She would have to get up and close the curtain, she thought. But she felt oh so drowsy.

« Wake up! » someone said. Where was that voice coming from, Olivia thought, confused.

_**« WAKE UP! »** _The voice was louder, insistent and coarse.

Then Olivia felt a splash of icy cold water in her face. She coughed and gasped for air while her eyes blinked wildly. Off to the left, the golden orb of a huge heat lamp came into focus. It was only a couple feet away from the cot she was lying on and had been the source of the intense heat she had been experiencing only moments before. Sitting in the shadows, off to the side in a rickety wooden chair was her chief captor. She could feel his cold, dead eyes locked on her face.

"Well, Miss Pope, did you have a nice nap?" the man asked, sarcastically. "You appeared to be dreaming. What were you dreaming about?"

Olivia didn't respond. She tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. _April in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, Fitz_. All of it was a dream.

"OK, so you don't feel like talking. Well, we'll see about that," the man with dead eyes said cruelly.

Olivia sat up in the cot. With the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes. Salty tears, mixed in with the water her captor had thrown in her face, began to fall.

* * *

**_A/N: I know the whole dream sequence scenario has been played out in fan fic, but how else am I going to get Liv and Fitz together in the present day while she's still in captivity? _**

**_In the next chapter we'll catch up with Huck and find out what he's been up to. We might even learn who Farheed Davi is working with to bring down the POTUS._ **


	18. Friends close, enemies closer

**Chapter 18: Keep your friends close, your enemies closer**

"_Stacks on deck, Patrón on ice, and we can pop bottles all night…"_ The music was bumping as Farheed Davi entered the seedy Baltimore strip club. He made his way through the dimly lit establishment and walked up to the bar_. "…Baby, you could have whatever you likeeee…."_ crooned the voice of T.I. over the club's sound system. Davi ordered a rum and coke and swiveled on his stool to look at the thick female wrapping her chunky torso around the pole. After the song finished and the well-endowed stripper finished her pole dance, he got up and went to sit in a booth. Davi was nursing his drink when the person he was waiting for finally arrived.

"When you said you wanted to meet in a place where no one would recognize us, I didn't picture this cesspool," said Billy Chambers sliding into the booth. "You and I here together is like the beginning of a bad joke….a Muslim and a Christian conservative walk into a bar…All that's missing is a rabbi."

Davi rolled his eyes. "What's the alternative? That we meet at the D.C. Capital Grille surrounded by congressmen and congressional aides?" he asked Billy sarcastically.

Billy took out his cell phone and put it on the table. "Look, I can't stay here too long. I'm afraid I may pick up a STD just sitting here. Why'd you call this meeting?"

"We've entered Phase 2 of Operation White Hawk Down and I need to know whether or not your boss is going to be ready to move when the time comes," Davi said.

A busty red-haired waitress with buckteeth came over to the booth. "Are you guys going to be needing a lap dance this evening?"

Billy grimaced. Davi replied, "No, no thanks. Just bring my friend here a Bud Lite and try not to interrupt us again, OK?" He slipped the waitress a $20. She smiled and nodded her head. "I'll bring your drink order right away."

"So, Chambers, I need to know, is your boss ready to implement that change we can believe in?" Davi said with a little chuckle.

"Of course! She's been ready," Billy remarked. "But you still haven't told me how you plan to elevate my boss to her rightful position as president of the United States."

"What do you care as long as it happens? All you need to worry about is staying close to that Cyrus Beene character and pumping him for as much info as possible about what the President is doing," Davi said. "That info you provided me about Olivia Pope was perfect."

"OK, but if this plan of yours goes south, I don't want there to be any blowback on me or on my boss. She is a fine, upstanding God-fearing Christian woman and completely in the dark about this," Billy replied.

The bucktooth waitress came back to the table and slid the bottle of Bud across to Billy. She hovered for a second and then asked, "Will there be anything else?"

"No!" replied both men in unison. She turned around and left.

Billy took a swig of beer and looked intently at Davi's expressionless face. "You still haven't told me what's in this for you? Why do you want to see Sally Langston as President?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" said Davi irritated. "As you Americans say, the ends justify the means. As long as you get what you want in the end, why do you care what my motivations are for doing this?"

"Because I'm sticking my neck out to help you. In fact, I could probably be tried for treason if this Operation White Hawk Down doesn't go according to plan. Don't you think I have a right to know what's driving you to do this? I know what my motivation is. What's yours?" Billy asked.

Davi sighed and said, "Pres. Grant is too progressive. My government hates his support for Israel. With him gone, we hope that your Sally Langston will withdraw or reduce financial support to Israel, which will ultimately undermine and weaken that country. And when Israel is vulnerable, my country will swoop in and claim that land for the Palestinians."

Billy just nodded. "But how do you plan to get Pres. Grant out of office? You're not plotting an assassination attempt, are you?"

"Of course not, you idiot, and keep your goddamn voice down!" Davi hissed. "The plan isn't to make Grant a martyr, which is what would happen if he got killed. No, the plan is to smear his reputation to the point where he will be forced to resign in disgrace. The plan is to damn Pres. Grant if he does and to damn him if he doesn't."

"What do you mean?" Billy asked, confused.

"Guilt by association. We've already started planting the seeds in the media that Olivia Pope is a Taliban sympathizer and the whole world knows that she was a valued and trusted member of the Grant administration before she quit. There were even rumors that they had an affair during the presidential campaign. You Americans reject your leaders at the slightest hint of a sex scandal. Now imagine a sex scandal combined with a terrorist sympathizer storyline as the cherry on top. It's a surefire way to push Pres. Grant out of office," Davi said.

"But there's no way anyone is going to believe that an upper-middle class African American female who is also a registered Republican and Stanford-educated lawyer is a supporter of the Taliban. Get real!" Billy exclaimed.

Davi gave a little smile and said, "You Americans are like sheep and fear trumps common sense. With enough time and money, we could convince your countrymen that even Mickey Mouse was a terrorist! The American public will believe whatever we tell them to believe."

"Well, color me skeptical," Billy said. "I still don't think your plan is foolproof."

"It is, because I've got a fail-safe," Davi replied.

"A fail-safe? What do you mean?" Billy asked.

"Olivia Pope is the key to this whole thing. If we get her to publicly declare that she's a traitor, it will force Pres. Grant's hand. If he tries to rescue her, we can play it in the media that he's rushing to protect a traitorous American. And if he doesn't try to rescue her, we can still tear down Olivia Pope's reputation and smear Pres. Grant in the process. With the 24-hour news cycle, there will be continuous negative press about his former connection to Olivia Pope and, as a result, the Republican party will demand his removal and he will be pressured to resign or face impeachment. Trust me, this is a perfect plan," Davi said smugly.

* * *

**A/N:** So now we know who has been feeding Davi info about the White House and about Olivia Pope. But we still don't know which country Davi is working for. _(Congrats to Juicyj28 who predicted that Billy would "rear his ugly head soon" in this story. Well, here he is, the official snake in the grass has arrived...right on schedule! LOL!)_

I know I promised you a Huck update, but the Davi chapter flowed out of me first. Will get to Huck in either the next chapter or the one after that. Hang in there! We're making progress, little by little!

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

Hugs,

Neo


	19. Breakin' Dishes

**Chapter 19: Breakin' Dishes**

Langley, Virginia: CIA Headquarters

It was a little after 10 a.m. when Cameron Reynolds' secure line rang. His secretary picked it up and then buzzed him.

_"Sir, Alistair Middleton is on the line,"_ she said.

Cam raised an eyebrow and quickly picked up the phone. Alistair was the head of MI-6, the British counterpart to America's Central Intelligence Agency.

Although Great Britain was one of America's most trusted allies, recently there had been some tension between the two countries due to the U.S. drone strikes in Pakistan. The British had advised the Americans not to go that route because they were afraid that the drone strikes would inflame tribal tensions in the region and give Islamic extremists new propaganda to use against the West. The British believed that the war on terror would be won on the ground by using spies to infiltrate terrorist cells, not through a series of drone strikes by air.

"Alistair, what a surprise! To what do I owe this pleasure," said Cam enthusiastically.

"Hello Cameron, I think we have one of your agents. Well, actually, one of your former agents," said the British spy chief.

"Oh really?" said Cam, puzzled. "Which one?"

"Diego de la Garza," came the reply.

"Doesn't ring a bell. Are you sure he's one of mine?"

"He left the Agency five years ago before you became Director. He says you may know him by his alias, Huck."

Cam sat upright in his seat. "Huck? You have him? Where is he?"

"Karachi. Turns out he's old friends with Toby Marwick, our station chief in Pakistan. Toby won't give me any details only to say that this character Huck needs to speak to the President of the United States. Do you know what this is about? You yanks aren't planning an invasion and planning to cut us out of the loop?

Cam replied: "No, nothing like that. I can't divulge any details either but suffice it to say that this is a personal matter. Get a message to Huck to go to the U.S. Embassy in Karachi and we'll handle it from there."

"He's refusing to go there. Says he wants to deal directly with the President of the United States," came the reply.

Cam sighed. "OK, can you get Huck out of Pakistan without attracting the notice of the ISI?" Cam said, referring to the notorious Pakistani intelligence agency which many Western governments considered extremely dangerous and untrustworthy.

"We can get him to London. You will have to take it from there," Alistair said.

* * *

_**48 hours later**_

It was a Wednesday and Fitz had a public appearance at a church in Arlington, VA. The pastor of the church had developed a community outreach program for undocumented immigrants and Fitz was going there as part of a basic meet and greet, photo op related to some new legislation he was trying to get passed related to illegal immigration.

Outside the church, Fitz shook a few hands, said a few words, answered a few questions, and then posed for a few pictures. The whole event took less than 30 minutes. Fitz was expecting to jump back into his motorcade and head back to the White House when Cyrus whispered something in his ear and steered him into the church. The two men, plus two Secret Service agents, headed to the church office where the pastor normally met and counseled his church members.

Fitz and Cyrus entered the office while the two agents stationed themselves right outside the door. Inside the pastor's office there were two men already waiting for the POTUS and Chief of Staff. One was Cam, the other, who was seated, had his back to the door. When Fitz and Cyrus entered, Cam stepped forward and said, "Mr. President, sorry for the unconventional meeting place, but we have someone here to see you."

Huck stood up, turned around and a look of relief washed over Fitz's face. "Oh my God, Huck, I am so happy to see you!" Fitz said warmly, giving Huck a strong handshake. "Welcome home."

"Thank you, Mr. President," said Huck abruptly. "I know that you know the reason why I'm here."

The features of Fitz's face darkened. "Yes, Huck. I'm personally devastated. Please, please, sit down and tell us everything you know about Olivia's kidnapping."

Huck proceeded to tell the President everything that had happened from the mysterious client who offered Olivia a ton of cash to take on a new client in Pakistan to the well-orchestrated ambush along the highway to Huck's connecting with his MI-6 contact.

"But why are we meeting here, in this church?" Fitz asked, looking at Cam and Cyrus.

"Mr. President, we believe we have a leak in the White House. If we had brought Huck to the White House, there would be a record of his visit in the visitor logs. Also there are potentially way too many people who would've seen him either enter or exit the building. By meeting here in this church, we're able to have an off-the-record discussion that only you, Cyrus and the two Secret Service agents outside know about," Cam explained.

"Huck, do you have any idea where they may be holding Olivia?" Fitz asked.

"No sir, but if it was a faction of the Taliban, it's a good bet that she's being held hostage somewhere in the tribal region in the northwest of Pakistan. That's the most likely area but it's an area of several hundred square miles, so she could be anywhere," Huck explained.

"Huck, there's something we need to tell you," Cyrus said quietly.

A knot immediately formed in Huck's stomach. "What happened? Have you heard from Olivia's kidnappers?"

"Yes," Cyrus replied. "They sent us a video."

Huck's stomach lurched. He knew what was coming next. "Please, don't tell me that…"

"No, not Olivia. It was Stephen," came the simple reply.

Huck exhaled sharply and put his head down. He knew it wasn't right nor was it fair and he immediately felt guilty, but he was relieved that it wasn't Olivia.

"Mr. President, you know that I left the CIA under less than ideal circumstances, but you need to reinstate my security clearance and give me access to COMINT," Huck said, referring to the top secret government technology that intercepts and tracks all voice communications overseas.

"Wait a minute, just stop right there," interrupted Cam Reynolds, the CIA Director. "Mr. President, there's a reason why this man is no longer working for the CIA. We cut him loose five years ago and he's been off doing God knows what in God knows where for God knows who. We can't let him just waltz in off the street and have that sort of access to that kind of info. It would be unprecedented!"

"Cam, this situation we're currently facing is unprecedented., so we have to take extraordinary measures and do whatever it takes to fix it," Fitz said.

"But, Mr. President..."

"This isn't up for debate, Cam. Olivia Pope trusts this man, so I trust him too," Fitz said firmly, shutting down the CIA Director. "If Huck says he needs access, you better damn well give it to him!"

Cam looked stunned and embarrassed. It was the first time the POTUS had ever snapped at him and Fitz's remarks hit him like a slap in the face. He was the director of the CIA not some low-level government flunky. His job was to identify foreign threats to the U.S. and protect the interests of the country. Why was the President so quick to throw protocol aside? Something wasn't sitting right with Cam Reynolds about the President's attitude, but there wasn't much he could do if he wanted to keep his job.

"OK, Mr. President, as you wish. But I must insist that Huck take a polygraph test before we hand him the keys to the digital kingdom."

"Not a problem," Huck replied. "I have nothing to hide."

* * *

Later that day, Huck went to the office of Pope & Associates and did a sweep for electronic bugs. Finding nothing he then turned on his computer, logged in and accessed the National Security Administration's system using the temporary password that one of Cam Reynold's people had provided.

Huck also sent a text message to the rest of the crew, Harrison, Abby and Quinn, asking them to come by the office right away. Huck's heart grew heavy as he realized it would be up to him to break the news to them.

Harrison and Quinn arrived together and started asking questions but Huck told them that they needed to wait for Abby.

The elevator chimed and out popped Abby, her straight red hair casually pulled back in a messy ponytail and she was dressed down wearing a Polartec fleece, skinny jeans and sneakers.

"Huck, I just want you to know that I was in the middle of baking an incredible crème brulée when your little text summoned me over here. I guess play time is over, huh?" Abby said, smiling brightly as she strolled into the office. "Where are Stephen and Liv? Did they go home to shower and change?"

Huck didn't answer. Harrison and Quinn exchanged worried glances. Abby raised an eyebrow. Her _spidey_ sense was telling her something was wrong.

"Huck? I asked you a question. Where are Stephen and Olivia? Did they come back on a different flight?"

Huck looked at Abby. "He's dead. Stephen is dead. And…"

Abby walked right up to Huck and slapped him in the face. "You're lying. I don't believe you."

"Stephen is dead," Huck repeated. Abby slapped him again, this time much harder.

"Stop lying, you lying piece of shit!" Abby exclaimed.

**"STEPHEN IS DEAD!"** Huck yelled in reply.

Abby went to slap Huck again but Harrison intervened and grabbed her forearm before her hand could make contact. Quinn began to cry.

Harrison was the first to speak. "What the fuck happened? Where's Olivia? Is she…?"

"I don't know. Something went wrong in Pakistan and…"

_"SOMETHING WENT WRONG?_ Are you fucking kidding me? You've been gone two weeks. You come back and tell us that Stephen is dead, Olivia is missing, and all you can tell us is that SOMETHING WENT WRONG?" Abby was screaming. "How did you make it back here, ALIVE? Where were YOU? Why didn't you save your FRIENDS?"

Abby tried to get in Huck's face again but Harrison held her back. Her face was filled with rage. "Abby, Abby, look at me, " Harrison said in a soft voice trying to get her to calm down. "Let Huck tell us what happened. Olivia is out there, somewhere. Huck was the last person with her. We're not going to find her if we're at each other's throats."

But Abby was pissed. She stormed off to the office break room and threw a glass against the wall. Then a dish. Then another glass. Harrison came rushing in and grabbed her arm before she could throw another.

It took a while, but eventually Abby calmed down and Huck was able to tell the associates of Pope & Associates everything he knew. By the time he finished the entire story, Quinn was bawling her eyes out, Harrison was mute and Abby was almost catatonic, just sitting there staring blankly out in space. Huck decided to leave them alone to process their grief in their own way.

* * *

**_A/N: Poor Abby. She never got a chance to tell Stephen she had a crush on him. What did you think of her slapping Huck? Kind of an unexpected way of showing grief. _**

**_Next story update within 24 hours. Subscribe to story alert to get instant notification when new chapters are posted. Thanks for reading and reviewing! _**

_** - Neo**  
_


	20. An Ounce of Truth, Part 1

**Chapter 20: An Ounce of Truth for Every Treason, _Part 1_**

"What's this?" Olivia said looking down at the piece of black cloth being handed to her by her main captor.

"It's a _hijab_, and you're going to wear it today," said the man. _(A hajib is the scarf, head covering that Muslim women wear.) _

Olivia, who was sitting on the edge of her cot, stood up and looked boldly at the swarthy man in front of her. "You've held me captive for two weeks and now, all of a sudden, you want me to wear this? Why?"

"Because we're going to shoot another video today and you need to look the part," he replied.

Olivia's stomach clenched. Another video. Fear started to mount inside her.

"If you're going to kill me on camera, I will die dressed exactly as I am," Olivia said defiantly. Her clothes were dirty and torn.

"Who said anything about killing you? No, that is not the plan. You will wear this _hijab_ on camera and give a message to your government," the captor said.

"And if I refuse? Then will you kill me?"

"If you refuse I can assure you that we will not kill you, but we will kill your president, President Grant."

Olivia's head snapped upright. _**"What?"**_

"Yes, Ms. Pope. You are going to go on camera and reject your country. If you don't, we will assassinate your beloved president."

Olivia struggled to breathe as her chest tightened. After everything that had already happened, she didn't think her barbaric captors could come up with fresh torture. Olivia slumped down along the side of the wall. The tears began to well up in her eyes as she thought of Fitz. After the murder of Stephen, Olivia knew that her captors weren't bluffing about what they would do if she didn't do what they asked. If they said they would kill Fitz, she knew they must have the means to do so.

Her captor came back shortly with a blank piece of paper and a chewed up pencil. "Here. Write down what you're going to say so there are no surprises."

She knew her captor would be back shortly with the video camera. She tried to think of a way she could fix this situation but nothing came to mind. That's it, her mind. That was her weapon. Olivia, still slumped against the wall, put her head down between her knees and put all of her energy into thinking. Her kidnapping. She wasn't the real target. Fitz was. Someone wanted to ruin Fitz and was using her to get to him. Everything was starting to make sense now. Someone knew that she and Fitz were extremely close and that she was his weakness. Someone wanted to provoke Fitz into doing something that would ruin his presidency. But what? _Think, Pope, think._ She ran multiple scenarios through her mind. If she went on camera and renounced the United States, Fitz would have to denounce her publicly. And if he didn't and the media made a continuous story about "Olivia Pope the terrorist sympathizer," the political fallout would be huge and he'd probably eventually be forced to resign. But if she didn't betray her country, her captors would assassinate him. Either way, her captors won.

Then an idea occurred to Olivia. A way that she could slip an ounce of truth into the treason she was about to commit. She was certain that Fitz would see this video. So she would send him a message.

* * *

_"My name is Olivia Victoria Pope. I was born April 5, 1977 in Bethesda, MD. I am a U.S. citizen who came here to Pakistan on a mission to help the people. My country has been dropping bombs on the innocent women and children of this country. Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. I can be silent no more. I must stand with anybody that stands right, and stand with him while he is right, and part with him when he goes wrong. So, today, I wish to renounce my U.S. citizenship. I no longer believe in my country. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."_

_**"Shut it off!"**_ Fitz growled. "I've heard enough!"

Cyrus and Cam looked at one another. The three men were in the Situation Room watching the latest video received from Olivia's kidnappers. The POTUS was steamed. When the video initially began, Fitz's heart leapt to see Olivia's face but his happiness lasted less than a millisecond when he saw how she was dressed, wearing a _hajib, _and her face was extremely thin and gaunt. And then when she said what she said, his spirit was crushed.

Cam was the first to speak: "Sir, I think it's time for us to do an honest assessment of this situation. The facts speak for themselves and it's time for us to let this go and move on from this. We cannot afford to spend more time on this."

"So what are you saying exactly?" Cyrus interrupted.

"I'm saying that we need to acknowledge that Olivia Pope is not who you and the President may have thought she was and that she is a traitor to this country. There's no longer any doubt about this."

"Oh, Cam, give me a break, you of all people know the way this propaganda game is played," said Cyrus. "It's obvious that Olivia said what she said under duress. Olivia Pope is a true American patriot. She's being held against her will. What she says on that video is a lie. She just said what she said because her captors forced her to."

"Be that as it may, consider the optics," said Cam, looking directly at Fitz. "When this video gets out, and it will get out, the media is going to go with the easiest and most obvious angle to the story – that a former official in YOUR administration is now supporting the Taliban. There's no other way to spin it. And you, Mr. President, will be permanently damaged by this association unless you come out and forcefully denounce Olivia Pope."

Fitz's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding? Publicly accuse Olivia Pope of being a traitor? Never!"

"Sir, this video is going to get out. We can't stop it. And when it does, it's going to send shockwaves. We need to get out in front of it and have you publicly renounce any affiliation whatsoever or lingering connection between your administration and Olivia Pope."

"Not gonna happen. Never. Ever. No," Fitz said, tapping his fingers on the conference room table.

"Sir, you are not thinking rationally. If you don't take..."

**"I said _NO!_"** Fitz yelled.

Cyrus and Cam looked at one another. Cyrus slightly shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of defeat.

"Mr. President, may I have a word with you in private? Cyrus, would you mind giving us the room, please?" the CIA Director asked.

Cyrus got up and walked out. Cam looked across the conference room table at Fitz.

"Sir, I think it's time for us to have a honest discussion," Cam began.

"An honest discussion? I thought that's what we were having!" Fitz replied.

"Mr. President, please don't patronize me. The gravity of the situation we're facing right now cannot be understated. I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me. What is Olivia Pope to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Mr. President! It's just the two of us here in this room. What is Olivia Pope to you? Is she your mistress?"

"No!"

"So, if she doesn't mean anything to you…."

_"I didn't say that! You said that! Don't you dare put words in my mouth!"_ Fitz said angrily as he stood up and leaned across the conference room table, glaring at Cam.

"Then why won't you take my advice?"

"Because I can't!"

"Mr. President! That is not a reason! What is it that you are not telling me? There's obviously something about Olivia Pope that the Taliban is aware of that your own Director of the CIA is in the dark about. _**WHAT IS IT?**_"

"Nothing. They know nothing. There is nothing," Fitz said, almost like a chant as he began to pace the room.

"Sir, with all due respect, you and I both know that is a lie," Cam said, slamming his fist down on the conference room table in frustration. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

"Nothing."

"So, why are you resisting my advice to publicly reject the Taliban and denounce this woman?"

"Because I can't!"

_"WHY NOT?"_

**"BECAUSE I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER with every fiber of my being and I would sacrifice anything,_ EVERYTHING,_ including my presidency to protect her!"**

An awkward silence descended upon the room. Cam looked across at the POTUS in shock. He had no idea of the depth of feeling the president had for Olivia Pope. He was now seeing Pres. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III in a different light. He wasn't the POTUS but simply a man in love.

Cam Reynolds knew that this conversation was over. There was nothing more to say, so he got up and left the room, leaving Fitz alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**A/N**: _Oh boy, the cat is officially out of the bag! Now that Fitz has confessed his true feelings about Olivia to Cam, what will Cam do? I thought he and Fitz were friends, but Cam wasn't all that supportive._

_And Olivia's video…did the true meaning of her message fly right over Fitz's head? He heard what she said but was he really paying attention? I think he may have missed it._

_Next story update coming on Monday. Subscribe to story alert to get instant gratification as soon as I update._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

_Neo_


	21. An Ounce of Truth, Part 2

**Chapter 21: An Ounce of Truth for Every Treason, Part 2**

After Cam stormed out of the Situation Room, Fitz remained behind. He felt bad about the way the situation had gone down with Cam, but he had already suffered the judgmental, disapproving lecture from Cyrus, he didn't want to get one from Cam as well. But Fitz knew that if he was ever going to bring Olivia home safe and sound, he was going to need Cam's help.

Fitz let out a deep sigh. He needed a stiff drink. This situation with Olivia's kidnapping had left him feeling powerless and he was tired of that. He was tired of reacting, tired of waiting. He needed to act, not react.

He picked up the remote, pointed it at the large flat screen and started to watch the video of Olivia again. He was not sure why, he just felt compelled to do so. He put the sound on mute. He got up and walked up to the screen. Even though there were bags under her eyes and she was noticeably gaunt, Olivia's natural beauty still came through. He put his hand up to the screen to touch her face.

Fitz watched the video with the sound off. Something slowly began to dawn on him. There was a ferocity in her eyes as she was speaking. It was clear that whoever had taken her had not broken her spirit. Yes, she looked exhausted, but she also looked defiant.

Fitz turned up the volume as Olivia was in mid-sentence _"…and stand with him while he is right, and part with him when he goes wrong…." _

Fitz hit the pause button and stood there deep in thought looking at the screen. He repeated the phrase in his mind _(…stand with him while he is right, and part with him when he goes wrong)._ The quote was familiar to him. And then it dawned on him. Those weren't Olivia's words. She was quoting Abraham Lincoln!

Excited, Fitz went back to the beginning of the video, this time with sound. If his hunch was correct, Olivia was trying to send them a message by using the words of famous Americans. He listened to the video three times, each time jotting down a few key phrases. He then did a Google search on his iPad. And indeed he was correct. Fitz discovered two other famous quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. woven inside of Olivia's "treason."

_"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter"_ and _"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."_

"Livvie, you are brilliant!" Fitz exclaimed. He immediately picked up the phone to call Cyrus and Cam back to the Situation Room. Olivia hadn't actually renounced the United States. In fact she had affirmed her love for her country by choosing quotes from Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. They were quotes that spoke to the best qualities of America – a willingness to fight for what is right and to stamp out injustice.


	22. Hot mess of a chapter

**Chapter 22: Hot Mess of a chapter**

_A/N: OK, fair warning and APOLOGIES in advance to everyone reading this. **This chapter sucks.** It's the worst chapter I've written. I've written myself into a corner and I need to provide all this background and context to set up the end game for the story. So, what follows is a very clunky, boring chapter. A few of you have PM-ed me and asked me to hurry up and move the story along and get to the Liv-Fitz reunion, so I feel like I have that hanging over my head. I wish I could just scrap this chapter but I feel like I need to show Huck and Fitz working together to find Olivia. Not my best work. **Sorry.**_

* * *

"So, Huck, how can we prevent this latest video of Liv from going viral?" asked Fitz. Cyrus had arranged for a conference call between Fitz, Cam, Cyrus and Huck.

"YouTube is the most natural destination for this video to turn up," Huck replied. "If there were some way to block it from showing up there, that would pretty much reduce the number of people who could see it and share it."

"So, how would we do that?" Cyrus asked.

"It's tough. You'd have to get Google to block it, but that's easier said than done. Google is notorious for not wanting to help government authorities," Huck replied.

"Well, we'll see about that," Fitz replied. "I'll take care it."

"Mr. President, what exactly do you have in mind?" asked Huck, curiosity was killing him.

"Let's just say that I'm going to make Larry Page (Google's creator) an offer he can't refuse," Fitz replied, chuckling.

Cam and Cyrus exchanged puzzled glances.

"OK, Huck, please give us a status report about what else you've been up to and what you've uncovered so far," Fitz continued.

"Well, I discovered that the man who hired Olivia for this assignment, Farheed Davi, is a ghost. He doesn't exist. All I can say is that whoever he is, he's good. Damn good. He has left virtually no trace," Huck reported.

"Virtually no trace?" Cam asked. "Meaning absolutely no trace or the slightest hint of a trace?"

"The slightest residue of a trace. The $250,000 he deposited in Olivia's bank account came from an offshore bank account, ownership unknown. I took a close look and found that the money was routed through three different bank accounts in Asia, Europe and America before it landed in Olivia's account. I traced the money back to a Swiss bank account. This Farheed Davi probably thought that having the money come from there would give him privacy protection but it doesn't."

Cyrus began to laugh. "That idiot probably didn't realize that under a new law the IRS now has the power to force Swiss banks to identify who is the owner of a Swiss bank account. If we know which bank this money came from, we can force them to identify who owns this account!"

"Follow the money and you'll find the kidnappers," added Cam.

"But even though we've got the law on our side, it's probably going to take weeks for them to release that info to us. We don't have weeks," Fitz said. "We've got to find an alternative way to find these kidnappers. Cam, can you put a call in to Alistair Middleton and ask him about their intelligence assets in Pakistan. Maybe if we asked him specifically if there's been any chatter about an American female, that would pinpoint where Olivia is."

"I can ask, but he's not going to be willing to share info on something like this. MI-6 has been working for years on infiltrating the Taliban. Alistair isn't going to be willing to potentially jeopardize his spies just to save one American. You've got to offer the British something in return," Cam said.

Fitz turned pensive and didn't immediately respond. Then he said, "OK, I'll take care of that too. What's next?"

"We still haven't identified who the leak is in the White House," said Cyrus.

"Well, we could plant false info and see who takes the bait," said Cam.

"Yes, we could, but do we really have time to do that? Laying a trap will take time and time is in short supply. Olivia has been in captivity almost three weeks. We need to find her and get her back. If we all keep our mouths shut and the info we've discussed today doesn't go past these four walls, I say we try to figure out later who the mole is," Fitz said.

* * *

_**A/N: OK, so the meeting is over and the lion's share of the workload has fallen on Fitz's broad shoulders. His "Things to Do" list includes the following:**_

**Call Larry Page, the CEO of Google, to ask him to block the video of Olivia from showing up on YouTube.** Page initially won't agree but then Fitz makes him an offer he can't refuse…a seat at the table of an upcoming economic trade summit with China and a personal introduction to China's top politician.

**Call David Cameron, prime minister of England, to ask him to get MI-6 to activate their spy network to look for Olivia.** Initial resistance evaporates when Fitz promises that the CIA will share what it knows about terrorist cells targeting the U.K.

OK, a very boring chapter but had to get this out of the way to get to the good stuff. Sorry for the clunkiness of this chapter but my heart just wasn't into it.

From the very beginning, I've been writing chapters out of sequence, writing scenes when the inspiration hits me. (Chap. 17 was the very first chapter written, even before the prologue. And what I anticipate will be either Chap 26 or 27 was written a week ago but I have yet to write Chapters 24-25!) Unfortunately, this one just didn't flow and I felt forced to write it today because I needed to provide a chapter showing Huck and Fitz working together. Normally, I'd sleep on it and see if I could make it better in a day or two, but I'm trying not to lose momentum by taking off too much time between chapters. Sorry!

If I get inspired at a later date, I may come back and rewrite this chapter, but for now I'll post it since I need the context to provide a bridge to the final stage of the story.


	23. State of the Union

**_A/N: _**_Apologies to everyone for the dip in quality and for rushing through the last two chapters. Gratitude to all for the previous positive reviews and feedback. I intend to return with strong chapters after taking a mini-break from writing this week. Thanks for your patience._**  
**

_To: ChasingPavements, you're right. I haven't written Huck accurately. He's pretty anti-social on the show and I've made him seem more normal and well-adjusted than he is._

* * *

**Chapter 23: State of the Union**

It was the day of the State of the Union address. It had been almost a month since Olivia's kidnapping and the situation was still hanging like a cloud over Fitz's head. But the White House had refused to publicly comment or release a statement about Olivia Pope's kidnapping. Cyrus had given Fitz the speech to review the day before but unbeknownst to Cyrus, Fitz decided to make some last-minute changes to the speech. Fitz called Jackson Harris, his lead speechwriter, to the Oval Office.

"Jackson, please take these notes, rewrite them and insert it in my State of the Union speech," Fitz said, handing the young speechwriter a few sheets of handwritten paper. "Make me sound better than good. This is going to be a historic speech."

"Yes, sir!" said the young, ambitious speechwriter, eagerly taking the papers and putting them in a manila folder. "I'll get right on it!"

The night of the State of the Union, Fitz entered the Capital to the cheers and applause of the bipartisan Congress. Mellie was radiant, standing in the upper balcony. Next to her was a young soldier who was going to be honored for his bravery in battle.

Fitz's State of the Union addressed started off slowly as he hit all the normal talking points about the U.S. economy and his administration's plans to spark job growth, and to work with Congress to get several laws passed. It was all very boring and predictable. And then, somehow, Fitz's speech verged into talking about the war on terror. Cyrus, who was watching the speech from his office, straightened up in his chair. What Fitz was saying wasn't part of the official speech Cyrus had read and approved hours earlier. Fitz was off script. The POTUS had gone rogue.

"…_we live in a world of untold horrors. A world where man's inhumanity to man is often on display. It's been said that all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. For too long our country has chosen to not confront oppressive regimes operating openly in several regions of the world. We've allowed them to flourish by doing nothing. Well, no more. Tonight, we draw a line in the sand. If even one American citizen is held captive, harmed and tortured, we will not turn a blind eye to that. We will fight back. _

_To those who do not share our values and seek to destroy this great country of ours, tonight I am sending them a message, and the message is this: You will fail. You will not succeed because the United States of America will not let tyranny stand. We will do what is required, by any means necessary, to defeat you. To all the tyrants and barbarians out there who wish to destroy and defile all that we hold dear, let me be clear: **We will hunt you down, find you and remove you from this planet so that love can flourish and the innocent may live in peace! **_

_Thank you. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America! _

The building erupted in applause.

About 8,000 miles away in the hills of Pakistan, Olivia's captors watched the speech on CNN International on their satellite TV. The main captor, who spoke and understood English, grunted at the end of Fitz's speech. Olivia could hear the speech in the room where they were keeping her prisoner. A single tear rolled down her cheek and the slightest glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. The message was clear: **_Fitz was coming to get her._**

* * *

**A/N:** _Three chapters in one day. Or maybe I should say 2.5 chapters since Chap 22 (Hot Mess) was very weak. Well, the end of this story is finally in sight. Can't make any promises when I'll post the next chapter because I'm feeling a little burned out after having cranked out six chapters in the past five days. Whew!  
_

_As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!_

_Neo_


	24. Heartburn

**A/N: **A couple of nights ago I landed like a dud in this forum. I was mentally exhausted (because of my day job) and feeling like I had run out of gas, creatively. But several of you posted messages or pm-ed me to cheer me up and not to give up.** Special thanks to: Inspired to read, Limepalmtree, Real Camille, Chocolate 1, SweetGirl83, Scandalicious, Steplove1, ChasingPavements7, Maverick37, TartanTrace, Guest1, Guest2.**

Writing this story has been unbelievably fun, so thank you, thank you, **thank you for giving me this opportunity to entertain you. **

Can I just say that this forum is incredible. The community here is so giving, friendly and supportive. There are some amazing writers on this Scandal fan fiction site, but I truly believe that** this community wouldn't be what it is without the fans**, the faithful and passionate readers like you who visit this site daily and post comments and reviews. I probably would've abandoned this story during the second week if it weren't for the support and encouragement that I got from many of you.

**Gratitude always,**

**Neo**

* * *

**Chapter 24: Heartburn**

_"That was a hell of a speech tonight."_

Fitz turned around to find Mellie standing there. They were in the White House residence, in their bedroom, and Mellie came out of the bathroom wearing a white spa robe.

"Thanks," Fitz grunted.

"No, I mean it," Mellie said sincerely. "That was one hell of a speech. Did you write it?"

"I had some help," Fitz replied, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

"_To all the tyrants and barbarians out there who wish to destroy and defile all that we hold dear_…," Mellie recited Fitz's words back to him._ "_That speech was about Olivia, wasn't it? I mean, for her kidnappers, right?" she asked hesitantly.

"Mel...I'm really tired," Fitz sighed. "I can hardly think right now."

"OK, I understand," Mellie said in a soft voice.

Fitz sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed to remove his shoes.

"If it were me who had been kidnapped would you have…" Mellie continued.

"Mellie, please," Fitz interrupted, knowing full well where she was headed with her line of questioning.

"…would you have made the same speech? If someone had taken me, would you move heaven and earth to find me?" Mellie asked, a wisp of hopefulness in her voice.

Fitz, who remained seated, looked up at her. _"Mel…"_

"Don't answer that!" Mellie exclaimed. "I know the answer already."

"Mel, I…"

"No, no, don't say anything," Mellie interrupted, her voice cracking slightly. "When I think back on this moment, I don't want to remember it as a big fight or an argument, just simply a conversation."

An awkward silence descended upon them. Mellie walked over to the nightstand and picked up her hairbrush. Fitz continued to remove his shoes and then his socks. He got up and walked to the walk-in closet to take off the rest of his clothes. He was in the closet, taking off his shirt and pants, when Mellie's voice interrupted his thoughts.

_"Did you ever love me?"_ she asked.

Fitz exited the walk-in closet wearing his Navy T-shirt and boxers. "Mel, please, it's late. I'm tired…"

"It's a simple question and I'm your wife. I have a right to know. _Did you ever love me?_" Mellie asked again.

"You're the mother of my two beautiful children, so, of course…"

"Fitz, PLEASE, for ONCE tell me the TRUTH!" Mellie yelled in frustration. "I gave up my career for you! I gave up my own hopes and dreams for you! I had TWO KIDS for you! Can you please, PLEASE, just tell me the truth! JUST ONCE!"

Fitz looked at her aghast. It had been years since he had seen Mellie this emotionally vulnerable. He wanted to be considerate but realized that in a moment like this, where she was demanding honesty, it would be cruel to be kind. He had to be completely sincere.

"Mel, yes, there was a time way back in the early years that I thought I was in love with you, but it wasn't real love. It was all on the surface and it just kind of stagnated," Fitz said. "You're the mother of my children, so I'll always care about you. But no, I've never truly been _in love_ with you."

Mellie exhaled sharply and sat down on the edge of the bed. She picked up her hairbrush and started brushing her hair. What Fitz had just said certainly didn't come as a surprise, but his words still stung. Never before had Fitz spoken so plainly and directly to Mellie about the state of his feelings, or lack of feelings, for her.

"Why Olivia? What does she have that I don't have? Is it because she's younger than me? More attractive than me? Better in bed than me?" Mellie asked.

"Mel, please, why are you torturing yourself like this?" Fitz asked, looking at her as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed.

"No, I want to know. I really and truly want to know," Mellie replied, her eyes misty.

"I don't know how to explain it," he said. "I guess if I had to explain it I'd say that Olivia knows me." He paused and looked away. "She understands me. She gets me. When I see myself reflected in her eyes, I'm not the President or Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III or some symbol or some trophy. I'm just Fitz. I can be myself completely with her. When I think about her, I feel at home. When I'm with her, I am at home."

"And you never, not even once, felt that way with me?" Mellie asked.

"Honestly? No. I'm sorry to say that, but no," Fitz replied, turning to look at Mellie. "We've been together 20 years and I've always felt like I was playing a role with you. I always had to "be on" like an actor on a stage. I married you because that was what was expected of me. I know I'm just as much to blame for this failed marriage as you are, but we got together for the wrong reasons. For you, it was about social status and financial security. For me, it was about having a wife that checked all the right boxes of what my family and society told me I should look for in a wife. We never should've gotten married, Mel. We've never been right for one another."

Mellie's head was bowed and her whole posture was of a woman defeated. In her heart, she knew that what Fitz was saying was true but it still hurt like hell for her to hear it.

"So, what comes next?" she asked sadly.

"I don't know," said Fitz, looking straight ahead, unwilling to say anything more. Of course, he knew what came next but he was unwilling to say it out loud. Not then. Not now.

Mellie sensed this and looked directly at him.

"You know, Fitz, you know," she said with a wry smile. She leaned over and gave him a light peck on the cheek. "I guess we both have had enough honesty for one night."

* * *

_**A/N**: Poor Mellie. I know she's one of the most hated characters on Scandal but she truly is a tragic figure. For a long time both she and Fitz were equally unhappy. Now Fitz has someone he's willing to sacrifice everything for and Mellie is like, "whoa, so that's what true love looks like," and she's a little wistful that she never had that with him. I think most women can relate to being the girl who gets rejected and even if you weren't in love with the guy doing the rejection, it still stings._

_**Next chapter will update the situation with Olivia. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**_


	25. Twist of Fate

**A/N:** _A lot of you liked the Mellie-Fitz interlude in the previous chapter. Glad you liked it! _

_This update is a long one. A lot of people in this chapter, several of them new characters. To keep the dialogue easy to follow, I structured one section almost as though it were a script with the format of name of character: line of dialogue. It makes that section easier to read since multiple people are speaking in that one scene. _

_And just to jog your memory, this opening section about Pakistan and the doctors is a reference to the news story mentioned in Chap. 14 ("Something Wicked This Way Comes") about the Taliban being worried that the CIA was using medical doctors to spy on them._

**Chapter 25: Twist of Fate**

Little Malik was a 10-year-old Pashtun boy. He lived in a remote village in the North Waziristan region of Pakistan. One day, a group of foreign doctors came to his village. They brought medicines and supplies and people came from across the region to see the doctors to get some basic medical treatment.

One of the doctors was very friendly with the tribal children. He played games with them and offered them sweet treats. One day this doctor took a small group of boys aside and asked them if they would like to be his helpers. The boys said yes! The doctor said he needed helpers who could find new patients. He told the boys that he would give a soccer ball to the boy who told him about any strange or unusual people who might need to see a doctor. But the doctor said the children had to report directly to him and not tell any other adult about their little game.

Malik, who had no toys to speak of, wanted that soccer ball. But he didn't know of any people who needed a doctor. Malik sighed. That soccer ball would be forever out of his reach.

_**A week later**_

The sound of gravel crunching signaled that a vehicle was approaching. Little Malik and some of the other village boys came running out of the various small shacks lining the road to get a look at the car that was approaching. It was a black Land Rover and it left a plume of chalky dust as it drove past the group of boys.

Malik and his friends ran after the vehicle as it made its ascent up the winding road. It took only a few seconds for most of the other boys in the group to fall back but little Malik was curious. He wanted to see who was in that car.

At the end of the road at the top of the hill was a medium-sized concrete building. The place had been empty for months but the location was the Land Rover's destination.

Little Malik took a shortcut through a lightly wooded area that bordered the road. He saw the Land Rover circle the building twice and then come to a halt. Malik stood behind a tree and watched to see who emerged from the vehicle. There were three men and one woman. The woman obviously wasn't local. She was wearing pants and her skin was brown and Malik could clearly see her entire head, including her hair because she wasn't wearing a _hajib_. For Malik, it was a very unusual sight to see a woman without her hair covered. Another strange thing he noticed was that the woman's hands were tied and there was a cloth in her mouth preventing her from speaking.

One of the men stepped forward and said something to the brown-skinned woman. The man was unusual looking too. He only had one arm and he needed a cane to walk.

Malik got scared and stayed hidden behind a tree. These were very strange people. He waited for them to go inside the building before he turned around and left.

As he scrambled back down the hill toward his village, he was thinking of telling his best friend what he had just seen when the image of a soccer ball popped into his head. He remembered that the foreign doctor wanted to find new patients. The one-armed man with the cane probably needed to see a doctor, Malik thought. That bright, shiny new soccer ball was now well within reach.

* * *

_**Three days later. 2 a.m. in Washington, DC.**_

The phone in the private residence of the White House rings. Hal, the Secret Service agent on duty, answers it. Normally he'd be reluctant to disturb the President and the First Lady at this late hour, but the call is important.

Hal knocks lightly on the door to the presidential bedroom suite. "Mr. President, there's an urgent phone call for you."

Fitz knows the call has to be important coming at 2 a.m., so he doesn't ask who's calling. "Transfer it to the secure line in my private study," Fitz says, pulling on a pair of sweats over his boxers. "I'll be out in a minute."

_A few moments later..._

"Yes, this is the President speaking," Fitz says into the phone's receiver.

"Mr. President, it's Cam. Sorry to get you out of bed at this ungodly hour, but it's important."

"That's quite alright, Cam. What is it?"

"We found her. We found Olivia," comes the reply.

There's a long pause. Fitz exhales sharply. He can't believe his ears.

"Sir, did you hear me? We found Olivia. She's being held in a compound in a northwest province in Pakistan," Cam says.

"Are you sure? Is she alive?"

"Yes, but we're going to need to move fast to rescue her," Cam replies. "Omar Hazib Bahar, one of the world's most wanted terrorists, is the person who is holding her."

Fitz gasps.

"Sir, you know what this means, don't you?"

"Yes, that the rescue of Olivia has now turned into a search and destroy mission," the POTUS replies.

"Yes, sir. I'll call Cyrus and ask him to call an emergency meeting of the National Security Council in the next two hours," Cam says. "I'll find a way to present the information so that the idea to launch a military strike in Pakistan won't seem like it was your idea."

"Sounds good," Fitz replies and then quickly adds, "And Cam…"

"Yes, Mr. President?"

_**"Thank you."**_

Fitz hangs up the phone and then sinks into a nearby armchair. Can it be true? Is this six-week long nightmare almost finally over? A wave of emotion comes over him and for the first time in six weeks he finally allows himself to do something that he didn't allow before - He breaks down and cries.

* * *

**5 a.m. the same day**

**The Situation Room, White House**

**Emergency Meeting of the National Security Council**

In the room:

**Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, _POTUS_**

**Cameron ("Cam") Reynolds, _Director of the Central Intelligence Agency_**

**Ian ("Mac") MacMillan, _National Security Advisor_**

**Sally Langston, _Vice President_**

**Jethro ("Jet") Mazulla, _Secretary of Defense_**

**Cyrus Beene, _Chief of Staff_**

On the large flat screen TV there is a still image and basic stats about one of the world's most wanted terrorists:

_Omar Hazib Bahar_

_58 years old_

_Born in Kabul, Afghanistan_

_Bio: Became radicalized in his 20s during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. Trained for jihad in Chechnya, Russia. Skilled bombmaker for hire. Legend has it that when he was captured by the Israelis, he made a daring escape by cutting off his left arm while in custody to get out of the handcuff that chained him to the prison wall. Evidence connects him to numerous bombings in Asia, Europe, Africa, North and South America. British and Americans were generally the primary targets._

_Cam Reynolds:_ "British intelligence has informed us that they have identified the current location of Bahar. Their source indicates that Bahar is hiding out in a small compound located in an isolated region of the Pashwar province and that…."

_Ian "Mac" MacMillan interrupts:_ "Who's the source of this information?"

_Cam:_ "MI-6 has a Pakistani asset that has been able to acquire this information for us. Now, as I was saying, Bahar is hiding …"

_Mac interrupts again:_ "Bahar is one of the world's most notorious terrorists, wanted on almost every continent. He's as slippery as an eel and has done a very good job of staying off the grid in recent years. In fact, there hasn't been a Bahar sighting in over five years. How do we know that this intel is reliable?"

_Cam_: "A man fitting Bahar's description was spotted and identified by a reputable source in Pakistan."

_Jethro Mazulla:_ "If what you're saying is accurate, this sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to cut off the head of the snake of a terrorist organization."

_Cam:_ I agree, and that's why I called for this meeting. It's obvious that Bahar moves around a lot, never staying in one location for longer than a few days. If we're going to get him, we'll have to move fast.

_Cam brings up some satellite footage of the region on the huge flat screen TV at the front of the conference room:_ "British intelligence informs us that a one-armed man fitting Bahar's description has been spotted entering this compound." _Cam taps the screen and the picture zooms in on a low-slung concrete structure. Both Fitz and Cyrus, lean forward in their seats._ "A U.S. citizen has also been spotted entering this structure with Bahar and his men. A female who appears to be their hostage…"

_Sally Langston:_ "An American female? Who is she?"

_Cam:_ "We believe she is Olivia Pope."

_Sally:_ "_**Olivia Pope?**_ The Olivia Pope who worked on the Grant campaign and was the White House Communications Director? That Olivia Pope?

_Cam:_ "Yes, I'm afraid so."

_Sally:_ "How on earth…?"

_Cam: _"Madam Vice President, I'm sorry, we don't have all the details. But we are certain that the woman being held by Bahar is Olivia Pope."

_Fitz:_ "Cam, let's stay on topic," _the POTUS says authoritatively, not wanting the conversation to linger on Olivia for fear that Sally and Mac may start asking too many questions._ "What is your recommendation to the Security Council."

_Jet_: "Mr. President, if you will allow me, I say that we mobilize an elite team, such as Navy Seal Team 6, and do a night-time raid to capture Bahar and to rescue the hostage.

_Sally:_ "Mr. President, must I remind you that our current relationship with Pakistan is strained. If we do this raid and something goes wrong…"

_Cyrus:_ "Are you actually advocating that we do nothing? That we allow this snake Bahar to get away? How exactly do you think that will play with the American people?"

_Mac angrily says:_ "Cyrus, the vice president said nothing of the sort. She's raising some legitimate concerns. Don't any of you remember what happened in 1993 to Clinton in Somalia with Black Hawk Down? A search and rescue mission can go to hell in a handbasket in the blink of an eye."

_Fitz:_ "We have the finest military in the world. Nothing will go wrong."

_Cam:_ So it's decided then, Mr President? You support Sec. of Defense Mazulla's recommendation that we launch military measures in Pakistan to capture this known terrorist?

_Fitz: _"Yes, I do, and I want to make this happen as soon as possible. This meeting is adjourned." _Fitz stands up and so does everyone else seated at the table. _"Cam, walk with me."

As the two men exit the Situation Room together, Fitz turns to Cam and asks in a low voice, "Did you prep Jet? _(referring to the Secretary of Defense)_ Because that whole thing went down very smoothly."

Cam simply nods and smiles.

* * *

_**30 minutes later in Sally Langston's office**_

It had been several weeks since Billy Chambers had been able to get any new dirt about the White House's plans to save Olivia Pope and Farheed Davi was getting restless. Billy decided to come into the White House a few hours early and snoop around and see what information, if any, he could scrounge up. To his surprise, when he arrived at 6:30 a.m., Vice President Sally Langston was already at her desk.

"Madam Vice President? What brings you in so early?" Billy asked, alarmed.

Sally looked at her watch and then remarked, "Gosh, yes, it is still early. I've been up since 4 a.m. because the President called a special emergency meeting of the National Security Council."

"Oh really?" Billy ears pricked up. "What's going on?"

"Billy, I'm afraid your security clearance isn't high enough for me to tell you," Langston replied. "I wish I could tell you but I can't."

Now Billy was more curious than ever. An emergency meeting of the National Security Council was an extremely rare occurrence. Something was brewing. Something big.

"Madame Vice President, I'm your Chief of Staff," Billy whined. "You know that you can trust me with this sort of information."

Langston, who was seated at her desk, peered at Billy over the rim of her reading glasses. She thought about it for a moment and then said: "The CIA has found Omar Hazib Bahar and they want to take him down immediately."

Billy gasped. This was huge. The architect of some of the world's most heinous terrorists acts was close to being caught.

"And, Billy, you're not going to believe this part, but the CIA says that Bahar is holding Olivia Pope hostage. Can you believe that?" Langston asked incredulously.

Billy choked and started coughing. "Say what?"

"I said that the CIA says that Bahar is holding Olivia Pope hostage," repeated the vice president. Billy's face drained of all its color.

"Hey are you OK?" Langston asked as she got up to get Billy a glass of water. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

_"I'm, I'm, mmm, OK,"_ Billy stammered as he stumbled out of Langston's office. He felt like he was going to be sick. He ran to the men's restroom and splashed water on his face.

"Shit, shit, shit, _**SHIT!**_" he screamed as he kicked the wall in the bathroom. What the hell had Farheed Davi gotten him involved in?

When Billy had made his pact with the Devil, he never imagined that the Devil would be connected to one of the most notorious mass murderers of all time! _**"FUCK!"**_ Billy screamed. Now what was he supposed to do? Warn Davi that the U.S. military was about to strike? Or keep quiet?

Billy paced back and forth in the restroom. When he started down this path to get Pres. Grant out of office, he never thought that his actions would lead him to be affiliated with Public Enemy #1 of the United States. Yes, he had been naïve, but helping Omar Hazib Bahar escape would be like helping Osama bin Laden. No, Billy had to draw a line in the sand. He would keep quiet and not say anything to Farheed Davi. _Let Bahar burn! Let all those ragheads burn!_ Billy thought. Taking down Pres. Grant would have to wait for another time.

* * *

**A/N:** If you looked up the term _"opportunistic scumbag"_ in the dictionary, there would be a photo of Billy Chambers right next to the definition. Well, at least he's picked the right time to develop a conscience! But Billy hasn't stopped to think about what Farheed Davi's reaction will be. Davi isn't just going to give up and go away. Billy has made a pact with the Devil, and the Devil is going to want his pound of flesh, one way or the other.

_**Next update within 12 hours!** The chapter you've all been waiting for finally arrives! YAY!  
_

_Thanks for reading!  
_


	26. To the rescue

**Chapter 26: To the rescue**

It was sometime after midnight when the dark angels arrived. They descended from the sky and moved stealthily into the concrete compound. There were five of them, all dressed completely in black, their faces covered like ninja warriors. Omar Hazib Bahar and his motley crew of men were sleeping and had no idea what was about to hit them. The dark angels had been given instructions to not fire their weapons. The sound of gunfire would attract too much notice and might bring other guerrilla fighters out of the woods, so the dark angels moved swiftly through the building snapping necks and knifing, slicing and dicing all of Bahar's men who came across their path. When they reached the back area of the compound, one of the dark angels called out, _"Olivia Pope? Olivia Pope, are you here?"_

Olivia, almost delirious after weeks of little sleep, thought she was dreaming. It was a voice from home, an American voice calling her name.

_**"OLIVIA POPE! ARE YOU HERE? IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE MAKE A NOISE!"**_

Could this be real? Or was this another of those cruel hallucinations that haunted her waking hours?

**_rat-ta-ta-ta-ta, rat-ta-ta-ta-ta, rat-ta-ta-ta-ta _**

A gunfight broke out. One of Bahar's lieutenants, who had been stationed outside Olivia's door, started shooting. The dark angels shot back. The staccato of gunfire sounded so real, so close, Olivia thought that perhaps maybe this wasn't a dream, that maybe this was really happening. She rolled out of the cot and shakily got to her feet. No one would hear her scream in the midst of all that gunfire. She lifted up the end of the metal cot and started to bang it against a metal pipe inside the room.

_Clang, clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang._

The gunfire finally stopped, but Olivia kept banging the pipe.

Suddenly the door to the room burst wide open. Two men holding guns stood in the doorway. When they saw that Olivia was alone, one of the men ripped off the black ski mask that was covering his head. Olivia could see his face clearly. With his crew cut and clean shaven face, it was obvious he was American military.

"Ms. Pope, we're U.S. Navy Seals. Pres. Grant sent us to find you. We're taking you home."

Olivia smiled weakly and then fainted.

* * *

**A/N**: _In the next chapter, **Fitz and Olivia are finally reunited!** But it's not going to be an easy reunion. Update coming later today. _

_P.S. Not sure yet what I'm going to do with Billy. He needs to get staked, but I'm not sure who should be the one to do it. Liv? Huck? Davi? Fitz? All of the above?  
_

_As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! Much appreciated!  
_


	27. Sleep, sweet baby, sleep

**A/N: What a day! 30+ reviews in one day. _WOW!_ You guys are _AWESOME!_ **

**Thanks for all the reviews and immediate positive feedback. Your reviews are the fuel that propel this story and keep me motivated, so THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart!  
**

To serenity0318: No, no, no, I don't want you to get fired for having some fun! LOL!

To JFJD: Yes, you're totally right. That scene with the doc was very creepy. When I wrote it I was like 'man this dude sounds like a textbook pedophile,' but he was a British spy posing as a doctor. In real life, spies and informants do a lot of shady things that would make the rest of us feel very icky.

To InspiredtoRead: Your comment ("tiny package of goodness") made me smile. Wouldn't it be great if fan fic had a category at the Emmys? lol

**And now, the moment you've all been waiting for.._.The Reunion of Fitz and Olivia!_  
**

* * *

**Chapter 27: Sleep, sweet baby, sleep**

Fitz had flown out his personal physician Dr. Jason Klein to attend to Olivia. After a thorough exam, the doctor came out to speak to Fitz.

"Ms. Pope is severely dehydrated and slightly anemic. All in all, considering the ordeal she's been through, she's actually in pretty good physical shape."

"And Doctor, about that other matter we spoke of...is there any evidence of…" Fitz's voice trailed off. He was unable to bring himself to ask the question, but the doctor knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Yes, we did run a rape kit, and no, there was no sign of sexual assault," Dr. Klein said compassionately.

"Thank God," Fitz exhaled.

"But she was in captivity for over a month, so it is possible that she may have been sexually assaulted early on. We won't know until she speaks to a therapist who can help her work through this trauma," the doctor replied.

"Can I see her now?" Fitz asked.

"Yes, but I just gave her a sedative," the doctor replied. "Her body has been overloaded by too much stress and adrenaline. What she needs most right now is an extensive period of uninterrupted rest."

Fitz quietly entered the hospital room. Olivia was in the bed curled up in a fetal position. Her back was facing the door and one could clearly see a bony shoulder blade poking out through the open back of her hospital gown. A thin white sheet came up to her waist. She was hooked up to an IV and some monitors.

A wave of sadness washed over Fitz when he saw Olivia lying there. Her body looked so tiny and fragile. Her breathing was labored but steady. She appeared to be fast asleep. Fitz folded his tall, lean body into the small armchair next to her bed. He didn't want to disturb her. She needed to rest.

Olivia sensed that someone had entered the room. The sedative the doctor had given her had started to kick in but she wasn't completely knocked out yet. She slowly turned her head to see who had entered the room.

_"Fitz...?_" she said in a hoarse, drowsy whisper. _"Is that you?"_

"Yes, Livvie, I'm here. You're safe now. Stay still. Just try to sleep, okay?"

_"Fitz, are you really, really here? Am I dreaming?"_ Olivia said, a bit of panic entering her voice. She thrashed a little in the bed as she struggled to sit up.

"Yes, baby, it's really me," Fitz said softly, leaning forward in the chair and smiling tenderly at her. He took hold of her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it lightly. "You're safe now. I'm here with you, baby, and I'm not going anywhere."

_"Where are we?"_ Olivia asked, a look of confusion clouding her face.

"We're in Landstuhl, Germany, in a U.S. military hospital," Fitz replied, stroking her hand gently. "You're safe now. No one can get to us here. Everything is going to be OK."

_"Fitz, I screwed up. Stephen is…"_ Olivia's weak voice trailed off.

"_Sssh_, don't say another word, baby, please. It's going to be OK," Fitz said, standing up. He leaned over the side railing of the hospital bed and lightly kissed Olivia on the forehead and then coaxed her to lie back down. "_Ssssh_, c'mon, lie down. That's it...try to get some rest."

_"And Huck….he's…."_

"Livvie, honey, please, lie down. You need to get your rest," Fitz said gently, as he lightly stroked her curly hair. He would tell her later that Huck was alive. For now, she needed to sleep.

_"Fitz, I…I,"_ Olivia's voice cracked and her face crumpled in a grimace of pain and sadness as the tears began to flow. Ashamed by how emotional, guilty and helpless she felt Olivia rolled onto her side, away from the view of Fitz's tender eyes.

Fitz's heart tightened seeing his Livvie in this emotionally fragile and broken state. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Without saying a word, he pulled down the railing of the hospital bed, climbed in beside her and spooned his body next to hers. He gently wrapped an arm around her waist and held her as her sobs shook her entire body. Within a few moments, her crying subsided and her breathing slowed down. The sedative was finally taking effect.

"Sleep, sweet baby, sleep," Fitz whispered in her ear, holding her in a warm embrace.

* * *

_**A/N: Fitz finally has his sweet Livvie back in his arms. But the reunion is most definitely bittersweet. Will Olivia find her way back, emotionally, to Fitz?**_

_**To be continued….**_

_**Footnote: Landstuhl Regional Medical Center is a real hospital in Germany. It's the largest U.S. military hospital located outside of the United States and is the place where wounded soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan are treated.  
_


	28. Guilt

**Chapter 28: Guilt**

_"You need to make a decision. And it's a life or death decision."_

"What do you mean?"

_"Do you want to live or do you want to die?"_

"We're all going to die some day."

_Yes, that's true, but there are some people who are walking around already dead. Their bodies are physically alive but their spirit is dead. Do you want to be among the living or among the dead?_

The question unnerved Olivia. She was staying with her grandmother, her Nana, in Virginia. They were sitting on the front porch and it was a beautiful spring day, the cherry blossoms in bloom, but Olivia couldn't enjoy it. After her ordeal in Pakistan, she had returned home shell shocked and broken. Once she was back in D.C., in her familiar surroundings, the death of Stephen and the guilt that she felt about what had happened consumed her waking thoughts.

Of course she wanted to be alive, but why did she get to live while Stephen didn't? Stephen died because of her.

_"Do you think Stephen would want you to punish yourself forever for his death? Do you think he would want you to be miserable for the rest of your life?"_

"I destroy everything I love," Olivia responded.

_"Child, don't exaggerate."_

"It's true. Everything I touch, everyone I care about, gets ruined somehow…" Olivia's voice trailed off.

_"Olivia, you know deep down that's not true. You have so much to live for. You have so much to be thankful for. You survived. You're here. That means you still have a purpose. The universe ain't done with you yet."_

"But I'm scared, really scared, Nana," Olivia said, tears welling up in her eyes. "How do I move on. I can't…"

_"What happened to you was horrific. But life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. You can run away or shut yourself away and let this pain eat you alive or you can confront it head on, and tell the pain to go shove it. What happens to you next is completely up to you."_

Olivia took a deep breath. The past few weeks since she returned from Pakistan had been really rough. Her re-entry into life back home had been hard. She had become very emotionally withdrawn and distant with everyone. She tried to throw herself back into her work, but her heart was no longer in it. Being back in the office only served to remind her of Stephen and the pain of his absence weighed heavily on her.

Meanwhile Olivia was keeping Fitz, who had been a complete prince, at a distance, both literally and figuratively. The interaction between them was strained. She felt numb and undeserving of his love and care. She didn't say much when he called and it didn't seem like she wanted to be around people, including Fitz.

Thanks to Huck, Fitz was able to keep tabs on Olivia. He called Huck for an update on how Olivia was doing.

"Not good," Huck replied, getting up to close the door to his office. "She's really hurting. I've never seen her like this before. This isn't her. She's in a pit right now and the longer she stays there, the harder it will be to climb back out. Trust me, I know."

Fitz swallowed hard. He knew Olivia was in a bad way but to hear that confirmed by Huck frightened him. He wanted Olivia to get help before the guilt and sadness she was feeling permanently crippled her emotionally.

Fitz had seen post traumatic stress disorder up close from his own time in the Navy, so he knew that what Olivia was experiencing wasn't something she could just "get over" and deal with. It was going to take time and maybe therapy. But would Olivia be open to talking to a professional therapist about what she was feeling? When Fitz had gently suggested it, Olivia had scoffed at it. But now, after talking to her Nana, she was thinking that maybe she could use the help. She didn't want to be among the walking dead. She wanted to return to the land of the living.

Fitz, for his part, felt a tremendous amount of guilt himself. Guilt that it was because of her relationship with him that someone had kidnapped her. Guilt that he hadn't been able to protect her. Guilt that he wasn't in a position where he could be completely there for her now that she was back.

After everything that had happened, he was hoping that Olivia would allow him back into her life. But she hadn't, and he was very disappointed. But he was a patient man. He wasn't ever going to give up on her. In the meantime, he realized that there was some "homework" that he needed to do himself to be ready for the day when Olivia made herself emotionally available to him once again.

* * *

_A/N: How long will it take Olivia to rejoin the land of the living? Will Fitz complete his "homework"? (lol) Some answers in the next chapter._

Here's the quote that inspired me for this chapter and from which I cribbed a line or two. I think it's really fitting advice for Liv:

**_"Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."_** ― Henry Miller


	29. How Soon is Now?

**Chapter 29: How Soon is Now?**

_I am the son__  
__and the heir__  
__Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar__  
__I am the son and heir__  
__Of nothing in particular_

_You shut your mouth__  
__How can you say__  
__I go about things the wrong way__  
__I am Human and I need to be loved__  
__Just like everybody else does__  
__  
__When you say it's gonna happen now,__  
__When exactly do you mean?__  
__See I've already waited too long_

_**"How Soon is Now?" – The Smiths**_

* * *

"Bob, thank you for coming on such short notice," Fitz said, warmly greeting the distinguished older gentleman. The founding partner of one California's top law firms, Robert J. Pearson had been the Grant family's personal attorney for over 30 years. In many ways, he was like an old school version of Olivia because Pearson made problems go away for powerful people.

"Mr. President, it's good to see you. It's been too long," Pearson said, giving Fitz a firm handshake. The two men hadn't seen each other in over a year. "I must say, Mr. President, that I was extremely surprised to get the call from your chief of staff, Cyrus Beene, summoning me to Washington. He wouldn't say what you wanted to speak to me about."

"Yes, Cyrus doesn't know because this is a very personal matter. Please, sit down," Fitz said, motioning to the Oval Office sofa. "Would you like something to drink? On his last visit to the U.S., the British prime minister gave me a bottle of Macallan Scotch which I haven't opened it yet. Would you care to join me with a glass?"

"That does sound very tempting, but I think I'll pass. But thank you very much for offering," Pearson said, sitting down.

"Well, Bob, I hope you don't mind if I enjoy a glass," Fitz said, cracking open the seal and pouring the dark amber liquid into the tumbler.

"Of course not, please, go right ahead," Pearson replied.

"Look, Bob, I'm just going to get right to the point," Fitz said, walking over to the couch facing Pearson and sitting down. "I can't go into the details but the last few weeks have put me under a huge emotional strain. As a result, I've been forced to confront what's really important in life and what really matters to me," Fitz said. He took a sip of the Scotch. Pearson looked at him intently.

"Someone I care very deeply about was trapped in an extremely precarious situation and I felt powerless to help her. She almost died. I know it's a cliché, but life is too damn short. It's only when you're separated from the woman that you love that you realize how much she really matters to you, and how life as you know it wouldn't be worth living if she were violently taken away from you forever."

Pearson had a slightly perplexed look on his face. _Where was the President going with this?_ he thought.

"Bob, you have been a trusted advisor and friend to the Grant family for decades. You understand the importance of discretion. What I'm about to ask you to do for me is of the utmost importance but it needs to remain private," Fitz said, putting his glass of scotch down on the coffee table. "No one can know, at least not yet."

"Mr. President, of course, you can count on me for anything," Pearson said, his curiosity piqued.

"Thank you, Bob," Fitz said, looking the older man squarely in the eye. "I want a divorce and I need you to draft a proposed divorce settlement."

Pearson's mouth dropped open. When the White House had summoned him from California, he anticipated that the POTUS had been hit with some sort of sexual harassment suit and the White House wanted him to arrange an out-of-court settlement to pay off whoever the girl was. But a divorce? He wasn't expecting this.

"Mr. President, sir, I must say that I'm shocked. Does the First Lady know that we're having this conversation? Has she agreed to this?"

"No, but my wanting a divorce won't come as a surprise to her. We've both been very unhappy for several years. This divorce has been a long time coming," Fitz remarked sadly.

"Does your father know?" Pearson asked.

"This doesn't concern my father. I'm a grown man and President of the United States. I certainly _don't need_ my father's permission to divorce my wife," Fitz said, irritated.

"Sir, I didn't mean to suggest that. It's just that you and Mellie have been together for a long time and I know how proud your father is of you. It's unheard of for a sitting president to divorce the First Lady. The ramifications of this, of getting a divorce while still in office, will be huge. Have you considered how this will impact your presidency? Your legacy? Being divorced will ruin your chances for a second term."

Fitz was irritated by Pearson's condescending commentary but he decided not to show his annoyance.

"Bob, do you remember your first legal secretary Juliet Clark?" Fitz asked, nonchalantly. "Of course, you do. When she died in a car accident you were devastated."

_"Wh-wh-what?"_ Pearson stammered. The hairs went up on the back of his neck. "What are you talking about?"

"I must've been 14 or 15 years old but I still remember the day you told my father the news that Juliet was dead. I was walking by my father's study. The door was cracked open and I heard you and my father talking. You sounded very upset. In fact, you were openly weeping and my father was comforting you. That's what stopped me dead in my tracks. My bear of a father, a man who hardly ever has a kind or compassionate word for anyone, _was comforting you_."

Pearson stared at Fitz, slack-jawed and stunned by what he was hearing.

Fitz continued: "I overheard you telling my father that Juliet Clark, your secretary, was the love of your life. She was very intelligent and beautiful. But because you were married and because she was black, you kept your relationship a secret. That was 30 years ago. Society back then was too rigid and prejudiced to have accepted such a relationship, you thought, even if you had been willing to leave your wife for Juliet. But I'll never forget what I heard you say to my father - that you had been a fool and a coward for not trying to make a life with her."

Pearson's mouth had gone dry and his palms felt clammy. The memory of Juliet and the pain he felt when she died came rushing back to him. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

"Bob, you know what it's like to lose someone who means everything to you. Someone who you let live in the shadows. Someone who you never publicly acknowledged as your beloved," Fitz said slowly, giving careful emphasis to each word. "Because of this, I know that you will help me with what I'm asking you to do. And you'll do so willingly, without hesitation and without questions."

Fitz picked up his drink and slowly swished the ice in the glass before taking another sip.

Pearson stared blankly at the POTUS. He was in a state of shock. All these years, Fitz had known this very private and intimate story about him and had kept it a secret. Pearson quickly blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking:

"Mr. President, I think I'll have that glass of scotch now."

* * *

**A/N:** _What did you think of Fitz starting to do his "homework"? LOL. He's making decisions independently and doing some personal housekeeping so that he will truly be available to be with Olivia when the time comes. Actions speak louder than words and Fitz is going to let his actions do the talking for him. No more excuses! Livvie better get ready! _

To: Vita T. who made the comment that Chap. 24's depiction of Mellie felt out of character, your point is well taken. I guess i thought that even a person with an ego like Mellie's might feel a little hurt to see her husband go to such lengths to rescue another woman.

Re: Billy and Davi...boy, you guys are out for blood with Billy! LOL! Let's hang him in the town square! But seriously, I'm not sure how I'm going to handle those two devils. Still on the fence about it, that's why you haven't seen them mentioned since the Navy Seal rescue. But I know I'm going to have to mention them soon as this story enters its final stage.

As always, **thanks for reading and reviewing!** Love the feedback and comments.

Later, gladiators!

Neo


	30. Uncertain Certainty

**Chapter 30: Uncertain Certainty **

"**_Cyrus adopted a baby?"_ **Olivia squealed in delight.

It was a little before midnight and she was talking on the phone to Fitz. The news that Cyrus had finally given into James' demands for a fat, squishy baby made Olivia laugh out loud.

"Yeah, can you believe it? Cyrus is going to be a dad. Poor kid," Fitz said, chuckling.

"_Well, Cyrus has a strong protective streak and he's fortunate that James is his husband,"_ Olivia replied. _"Between the two of them, that child will be fine. Is it a boy or a girl?"_

"A little boy. He's from Ethiopia and they've named him Ethan," Fitz explained. "Cyrus pulled some strings over at the State Dept to get the visa and other paperwork fast tracked."

"_Well, good for him and James,"_ Olivia said, genuinely happy for Cyrus.

There was silence on the other end of the line.

_"Fitz? Are you still there or did you fall asleep on me?"_ Olivia said, smiling.

"I was just thinking…"

_"Thinking about what?"_ Olivia took a sip of her chamomile tea.

"Hmm, I wish it was us," Fitz said quietly.

_"Fitz, please..."_

"C'mon, Liv, you can't say you never thought about what it would be like for us to have a child?"

"_Nope. Never."_

"Liar."

_"I'm old fashioned, what can I say. I wouldn't want to be a single mom raising a child all by myself. I'd want the husband, the dog, the white picket fence."_

"Hmm, well, what about the husband, the dog and the White House?"

**_"FITZ!" _**Olivia sputtered, the tea spurting out of her nose.

"Liv, I'm serious."

_"Fitz, God, please don't go there."_

"Go where?" Fitz asked, playing dumb.

Olivia let out a huge sigh. She was slowly coming out of her emotional shell and returning to her old self after that Pakistani ordeal, and these frequent late-night phone calls with Fitz had lifted her spirits tremendously. But they had done so precisely because he had acted solely as a friend and not as a boyfriend or a lover. He had been on his best behavior and had steered clear of phone sex or bringing up any romantic relationship type stuff that might spook a still skittish Olivia.

_"Do you know why I enjoy these late-night conversations with you? Because it's fun catching up like this at the end of a stressful day with a good friend."_

"Ouch! So I've been relegated to the "friend category." You really know how to stroke a guy's ego. Can you at least upgrade me to the "friends with benefits" category?" he asked with a laugh. Olivia knew he was probably smirking.

_"FITZ!"_

"But what if I were free. Like truly free."

_"What are you saying?"_

"Isn't it obvious?"

"_Fitz, please! We've already been down this road. Can we please not replay this conversation again! You're not free, so let's not talk about what ifs."_

"But if I weren't married…?"

_"What part of "let's not talk about what ifs" didn't you understand?"_ Olivia asked annoyed. "_I'm going to hang up right now unless you change the subject."_

"No, no, don't hang up, Livvie, wait, I'm serious," Fitz said, an urgent tone in his voice. "There's going to come a day when I will be free, totally free and single, and it will no longer be "what if" but "will you…"

_"OK, I'm hanging up now!"_ Olivia said, cutting him off. A knot had formed in her stomach and she was feeling increasingly stressed and anxious by the turn the conversation had taken. She really did not want to hear Fitz's hypothetical marriage proposal and talk about some hypothetical scenario in a distant future where they might be together. Talk is cheap and Olivia reminded herself that there was a reason why she and Fitz would never be together – he was the married POTUS! Nothing was ever going to change that!

_"G'nite."_ The line went dead.

Fitz pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in disbelief. _Son of a bitch, she actually hung up on me,_ he thought in amazement. He chuckled and opened up his desk drawer and took out a framed picture of Olivia. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he admired the photo. "The day is coming when I will be free, Ms. Olivia Pope," Fitz said smiling at the picture, "and I won't take no for an answer then."

* * *

**A/N:** OK, Gladiators, consider this the end of "Season 1." I'll be back with a "Season 2" where I'll pick up the story where it left off.

I know this ending is abrupt and unsatisfying, but I've been struggling with how to tie up several loose ends (like the Billy Chambers/Farheed Davi storyline) and how to write about Olivia's emotional return to Fitz without it all feeling rushed and jammed together. I also want to explore this whole issue of the POTUS going through a divorce. The story is definitely entering a different stage. For that reason it makes sense to kind of draw a line and say here's where part one of this multi-part story ends, but it will continue and pick up where it left off in a sequel.

A huge "THANK YOU!" to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. The reviews encourage and motivate me to keep writing. It's been so much fun bringing you this story. Add me to your author alert list so that you'll be the first to know when the sequel to "An Ounce of Truth" is finally posted.

Gratitude always,

Neo


	31. The story continues

**Sequel: "The Heart Wants What it Wants"**

Just a quick update to those of you who have followed "An Ounce of Truth" and may not have seen that I've launched "Season 2" of this story.

The new title is _**"The Heart Wants What it Wants"**_ and it's **Rated M**. The story picks up exactly where "_An Ounce of Truth for Every Treason"_ left off.

Thanks for following the story so far!

See you on the other side,

Neo :)


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